A fox girl and her friends succumb one by one to addictive, transformative, brain-draining cigarettes. Explicit.
1 Hazel, Monday morning
Hazel hadn't seen Jordan all day. At this point, she was convinced that Jordan was home sick and hadn't texted her about it. Hazel knew the rabbit girl would be more pissed about missing track practice than missing class.
Her two other friends were already sitting at their table in the cafeteria, so Hazel headed their way. Her fluffy fox tail flicked behind her, weaving through the tight gaps between people's chairs. Between her short, crisp red hair and sharp green eyes, she had the look of someone who could be confident one day, once she got over her own teenage awkwardness. Right now, she was more lanky than anything.
Hazel slid into a seat at the table. Zoey and Evie barely noticed her sitting down.
Zoey was the biggest of their bunch, thanks to her panther genetics. She had dangerous scowls down to a science, and she was on her last strike for violating the dress code. The grinning feline skull on her tank top peeked above the table.
Evie, the doe, had her hoof-tipped fingers wrapped around her fork, halfway through jabbing it into her salad. Her glasses made her wide-eyed stare look even wider. Her flannel shirt had been scuffed in spots, a veteran of one of her many hiking trips, and her hair was pulled back in her usual short ponytail.
Zoey and Evie both were staring in the same direction. Hazel glanced between the two of them, waited a few seconds, then broke the silence by saying, "What's up?"
"Jordan," Evie said.
Hazel followed Evie's gaze, but she didn't see Jordan. All she saw was the school's varsity quarterback and some sexed-up bunny sitting on his lap. "I don't get it," Hazel said.
Zoey reached across the table, wrapped one arm around Hazel's shoulder so they were looking from the same angle, and pointed at the bunny girl. "That's Jordan," she said.
Hazel's eyes widened. That couldn't be Jordan.
Jordan's tits were big. Big enough that even Mason's hooved fingers couldn't wrap all the way around them. They were on the verge of popping out of Jordan's black spandex sports top. And with her on the bull's lap, one of her round, heavy, chest-dominating tits squeezed against his side.
"You think I could be a cheerleader?" she asked. The black eyeliner rimming her brown eyes made them look bright and sparkling and innocently vacant. Her long hair was gathered up into a high ponytail, and it swayed behind her as she wiggled against the bulge in the bull's lap.
"Hnnh," Mason snorted. His hips flexed. He squeezed her thigh for support and managed a charming smile. "Y-yeah. Why not?"
Jordan's hips were so thick they barely fit on the bull's lap, and she had an ass to match. Her yoga pants clung to every square inch of her legs. Her head only came up to his chest, but it meant she didn't even have to work to give him a deep view of her cleavage.
She licked her lips and stared off into the distance. Her fingers quivered, like she wanted to have something between them. Then Jordan wiggled on Mason's lap and dragged her hand along his chest. She traced the thickness of his pecs with her soft claws. A small shiver ran through her and her breathing deepened.
"Maybe you can help me stretch?" She gave him an obvious wink.
The bull gulped and snorted. He held her tightly, a hand on her legs and one on her ass. Her body was trembling with anxious energy and her curves were tailor-made for his hands.
She tipped her head back, pressing against Mason's shoulder. Her lips were parted slightly; her tall rabbit ears were draped against his arms. She had the blank eyes of a model, telling him to pay no attention to her mind, that her body was the only thing that mattered. "I need to fuck," she said, softly. Her anxious fingers balled into a fist and clutched his collar. "I need you to fuck me."
First, Mason looked surprised. Then he looked eager. He lifted Jordan off his lap and stood up from his seat. Hanging off of Mason's arm, Jordan strutted with each step. Her pink-and-white sneakers squeaked against the tile floor. The two of them disappeared out the cafeteria door, in the direction of the bathrooms.
"You see that?" Zoey said, turning back toward Evie and Hazel. Her black tail flicked angrily behind her back. "They're totally going to fuck. Jordan's gonna fuck one of the biggest meatheads on the football team."
Evie frowned and turned her fork over in her hand, taking another jab at her salad. "She's on the track team. It's not like that's a huge stretch."
Hazel still hadn't gotten over the shock. Jordan was a cute rabbit girl, but she was thin, practically flat as a board. The last time she'd seen Jordan had been last Friday, and she'd been her normal, athletic self then. Over the weekend, somehow she'd gone from track team to wet dream.
"And that explains why she's got porn star tits and ass now?" Zoey asked.
Evie's ears drooped and she swallowed her mouthful of salad. "Well, no. And it doesn't explain the way she's acting, either. It's not even like she's in heat, it's like she's..."
"Dumb," Hazel said.
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence at the table. They all knew it was true, but having it said out loud put it out in the world. It wasn't some weird shared delusion; it was real. Something was wrong with Jordan.
"Someone should talk to her," Evie said.
Another pause. Hazel felt the eyes on her, even without having to look. If Zoey went, she'd end up yelling at Jordan for objectifying herself. If Evie went, she'd have a bout of social anxiety and get cold feet. It was all up to Hazel, the diplomat.
"I'll find her after lunch," Hazel said.
The three friends ate quietly. Hazel felt the weight of the empty chair where Jordan should have sat. Seeing Jordan all slutted out felt so unreal, like if she got up and went about her day, it would vanish like a dream and everything would be normal again.
All she could do was follow the motions. Finish lunch, dump her trash, put the tray on the conveyor belt. Walk out the cafeteria doors. Turn, not left toward the lockers, but right toward the bathrooms. Hazel had to do this. She was still numb, but with a deep breath to steady herself, she pushed open the door to the women's' bathroom and stepped inside.
2 Hazel, Monday afternoon
The air in the bathroom was musty and hot, and smelled like sex. Not just cum, but like sweat and musk and a bit like cigarette smoke too. Mason was long gone, but Jordan was still there.
Jordan leaned against the sink with one hand, using her other hand to comb her hair. Sprigs of hair had slipped out of her ponytail, her fur was ruffled, and her yoga pants hung low on one side. It looked like she'd been running cross-country and taken a tumble down a hill, except there were no cross-country tracks in the bathroom.
Jordan's ear cocked up into the air, and she turned to look at Hazel. A buck-toothed smile spread across her face. She turned, lifting the hand she'd been leaning on to her lips. The red tip of a cigarette glowed at Hazel. Jordan took in a deep drag until her eyelids drooped, then blew it back out. The reek of fresh sex and cigarette smoke grew stronger.
"Hey, Hazel! What's up?" Jordan asked.
The fox girl didn't know where to start. "Jordan, what happened to you?"
Jordan's lips slid off her cigarette. She puffed another cloud of smoke into the air. Her free hand slipped down between her legs to cup her cameltoe and rub slowly. Her long ears were folded back against her shoulders and her eyes unfocused, staring into the middle distance.
Hazel raised her eyebrows and took a step forward. "Jordan!" she said, loud enough to shake the rabbit from her stupor. A confused look flicked across Jordan's face for a moment, before she seemed to realize once again where she was.
"Oh, hey, Hazel! What's up?" she asked.
Hazel twitched her tail. "You're smoking, for starters. And you've got...this...figure," she said, gesturing at the rabbit's body. "And you're acting stupid, and I think you just slept with that football guy."
Jordan lit up like a switch had been flipped in her brain. Seeing that sparkle in her friend's eye gave Hazel some hope, that maybe her friend was still normal, somewhere inside the slut of a rabbit. Then Jordan opened her mouth. "I kept telling him to fuck me harder. He's a bull, y'know? I should have bruises! I think he was a little shy."
So much for hoping.
Jordan paused to take another drag from her cigarette. Her eyes glazed over and she let the smoke roll lazily off her lips before blowing it in Hazel's direction.
Hazel squinted and wrinkled her nose as the puff of smoke hit her. Her nostrils felt dry and unpleasantly musty. Hazel tried to keep her mouth shut, but her nose tickled and she sneezed.
When Jordan wasn't sucking on her cigarette, a slack, heavy-lidded look swept over her face, like she was rousing herself from grogginess or trying hard to concentrate. She was in a stupor save for her fingers, which gave her swollen mound plenty of attention through her yoga pants.
Hazel brushed her nose on her sleeve. She took a step forward, though the smoke in the air plucked at her eyes, trying to make them water. "Jordan. I need you to focus. Did anything weird happen to you over the weekend?" she asked, trying to catch the rabbit's vacant gaze.
Jordan's shrug made her tits jostle up and down. Hazel's eyes dipped from Jordan's face to her chest. They were wider across than her chest, and held snugly by her spandex top. Seeing her friend with breasts like that didn't feel real; it was like she was talking to an actress playing Jordan in the porn knock-off of her life.
Ignoring the churning feeling in her stomach and trying to breathe solely through her mouth, Hazel asked, "What happened to your boobs?"
"They're big now," Jordan said. The cigarette squeezed between her fingers, she cupped her rack from underneath. "And they're real, and they're great to play with. Guys love them."
Another plume of smoke struck Hazel in the face. She turned her head and swiped at the air furiously. The wisps dissipated, but the smell of smoke and sex lingered in her nose. "Why'd you start smoking?" Hazel asked, wiping at the corners of her eyes.
"I..." Jordan began to say, then blinked slowly. "Cause they make me want to fuck. And then I have to smoke, and then I have to fuck, and then I have to smoke..." she said, cocking her head to one side, then the other. Her ears flopped against her back.
A small patch of dampness seeped through Jordan's yoga pants. Was she getting herself excited, or was that cum from the bull she'd just fucked? The thought of tasting it to find out crossed Hazel's mind for a moment, but she blushed and forced the thought away.
"What about track?" Hazel asked. Her cheeks were warm. The smoke permeated the air and made the bathroom lights gleam in the haze. It wasn't hot, but Hazel was sweating.
"Huh?" Jordan gave the vixen a blank look.
"Track. You're on the track team."
"Oh," Jordan said, nodding slowly. "The guys in track are all skinny though. I was thinking, if I can't find a guy on the football team who fucks good enough, I could try going to a gym. Find some lion..."
Hazel was confused and upset and dizzy and queasy. She didn't know what was going on, but the cigarettes had to be involved. Just breathing in the smoke was making her feel fuzzy-headed.
Jordan flicked the cigarette, burned down to the filter, into the sink. She reached for her pocket. Hazel had never been faster than Jordan, but foxes were naturally quick, and Jordan's dopey trance bogged her down. Hazel snatched the pack from her pocket. Jordan's fingers closed around nothing.
"Hey!" Jordan said. A sudden look of concern snapped onto her face. It was the most she'd reacted the whole time they'd been talking. She groped for the pack, but Hazel backed away. Jordan's eyes grew wider and she licked her lips nervously. "Come on, give it back!"
"No, you're hooked," Hazel said, holding the pack high over her head. Jordan pawed at Hazel's shoulder, trying to drag her arm down. In a hectic tangle of limbs, the two of them wrestled for a moment, clawing and tugging and pushing. Hazel peeled herself away and shoved her way through the bathroom door. Clean air. Stowing the cigarettes in her pocket, she sucked in a few breaths.
Through the door, Hazel heard Jordan calling out, "Come on! You can't...just take them..." but by then, Hazel was already booking it down the hall.
Zoey and Evie were waiting for Hazel by the time she reached their lockers. They huddled together, dire and anxious, all looking at Hazel for some sort of explanation.
"You smell like you fucked her," Zoey said.
"It's these," Hazel said. She dug into her pants pocket and pulled out the pack of cigarettes. The cardboard was printed with a relaxing blend of pastel colors, and in a thin font across the front was the brand name: Loose and Easy.
"You fucked her for cigarettes?" Zoey asked.
"Shut up," Hazel snapped. Ever since finding Jordan in the bathroom, her anxiety had been eating away at her patience. She gripped her arm and itched at her fur. "I grabbed them off her before I got out of there. She was super upset. I think she's hooked."
Evie frowned. "But she wouldn't smoke. She's a runner, it'd be awful on her lungs."
"You try telling her that. I asked her about track, but she just babbled about what kind of guys she wants to have sex with. Then she spaced out in the middle of talking to me. Something's gotten to her and it's making her stupid."
There was a moment of quiet between them. Hazel shoved the pack back into her pocket. "We need to tell someone," she said.
"Who?" Evie asked. "And more importantly, what would we tell them? The way Jordan's acting, it doesn't make sense. A doctor's not going to know what to make of her symptoms."
"So we figure it out on our own," Zoey said. "Let's meet at my place, eight tonight, see what we can dig up." She tried her best to sound grave, but Hazel could tell that she was eager to dig her fangs into a mystery.
'You guys can handle that," Evie said. "I still have to study for AP Physics. I was out camping all weekend. But let me know what you find, okay?"
With their plans set, they all broke off to go to their classes. The cigarettes, tucked away in the pocket of Hazel's jeans, felt heavy and tender, like she couldn't even touch them or she'd be in danger. She scratched at her scalp, just behind her black-tipped ears. Her tail swished nervously. The thick smell of smoke still clung to her, and she was worried that a teacher might notice.
In the rest of her classes, Hazel sat far in the back, hunched over her desk, occasionally clawing at her hair. The seconds ticked by painfully slow, and everything the teachers were saying slid right out of her mind. In her mind, she was back in the bathroom, feeling the smoke blowing across her face, staring at Jordan's oversexed body, and fighting the urge to reach out and hold her. Squeeze her. Grope her.
Hazel pushed herself up from her desk, slinked over to the door, and grabbed the bathroom pass. Once she was in the hallway, she started rubbing her face. Her fur felt like the smoke still clung to it. Every so often, she'd get a whiff of that musky scent.
Quietly, Hazel slipped into the women's bathroom. At least she could try to wash away the smell clinging to her face.
As she stepped up to the sink, she heard voices coming from one of the stalls. She paused, one ear cocked. It wasn't voices; it was moaning. Hazel's cheeks grew warm, but she kept listening.
Deep, rhythmic grunts came from the stall, paired with muffled groans, and the steady thump of someone's head hitting the plastic divider. With a quiet step, Hazel inched closer and crouched down, taking a peek under the stalls.
There were two sets of legs. One ended in broad hooves, draped in shaggy white Clydesdale fur. The other legs were kneeling, wrapped in snug yoga pants, and sported a short tuft of a bunny tail above a plump ass.
Hazel put her hands over her mouth and began to back away. A heavy grunt came from the stall, followed a few seconds later by some heavy gulping and a faint liquid spatter.
If Hazel's fur wasn't already red, it would have been crimson now. She darted out of the bathroom, feeling as if she would break out in a sweat any moment. She'd caught Jordan sucking another varsity guy off. Walking in on her in the act was bad enough, but oral? Hazel felt like she needed to brush her teeth. Just the thought of oral sex left her queasy.
As Hazel slipped back into her seat in class, she was shivering. The teacher paused, glancing back at Hazel over the heads of the other students. "Hazel? Are you feeling all right?" she asked.
"I'm just a bit cold," Hazel lied. She rubbed her arms until she could sit still in her seat again.
3 Hazel, Monday evening
Hazel didn't need to smoke. She told herself that as she walked home, hands balled into fists and stuck in her jacket pockets. It was a bad idea. Just look at Jordan; the cigarettes had to be involved somehow. Hazel wasn't having cravings and she didn't need to smoke.
But on the other hand, it would give her a better idea of what was happening to Jordan. And she didn't have to smoke until she was hooked, she could just try one. She licked at the inside of her mouth and gently ground her teeth together. She had Jordan's pack. She could just try one.
The convenience store door chimed as she pushed it open. She looped around the shelves to the cooler, grabbed a bottle of soda, and then as she came up to the counter, picked up a disposable lighter from the rack by the register.
Her claws nervously tapped on the edge of the counter. The lighter was just in case. She didn't need to smoke, but if she did, it'd be easier and less conspicuous than trying to use the matches from her kitchen.
Soda in hand and lighter stuffed next to to the pack of cigarettes, Hazel let her feet carry her the rest of the way home. She shut the door to her room and opened her window, then dug both pack and lighter from her pants. She set them on her desk, then paced around the room and stared at the carpet and nipped at her claws.
Finally, she stopped pacing. Trying to steady her hands as much as possible, she reached for the pack and flipped open the top. She pulled a cigarette out and grabbed the lighter with the other hand. Holding the cigarette to her lips, the way she'd seen Jordan doing it, she fumbled with the lighter. Shouldn't these things be easier? She was starting to get frustrated when it finally sparked up a flame. She held it to the tip of the cigarette until the paper glowed. Then she lowered the lighter and took a breath in.
Her lungs seized up and she nearly dropped the lit cigarette onto the carpet. Clutching the desk for support, with her tail bushed in distress, Hazel hunched over and coughed out the smoke she'd inhaled.
She didn't feel any different. But the smoke had stayed in her lungs for half a second at best. Her stomach hurt a little. Her hand drifted back to her mouth. Eyes closed, she inhaled again. The smoke sucked the moisture right out of her throat, but through force of will, she tried to keep from coughing. She made a few strained wheezes, and could only last a second or two before having to breathe it out and take deep breaths of the fresh air coming in through the window.
Hazel wanted to stop. It was too much work to try to get herself used to smoking. It wasn't worth it. She just needed to stub out the cigarette and stop. Just stop. She stared at the cigarette in her hand. Stop. She pushed it up against her lips. Her other hand unbuttoned her pants and slid them down around her thighs.
As Hazel sucked in another breath of smoke, her eyelids drooped. Her free hand slid through her soft white underbelly fur. Her fingers wiggled their way under her panties, pressing her paw pads against her folds. They were tender, like she'd been pent up all day. A little cough came up from her throat with a puff of smoke. Why was she so wet? She exhaled the rest of the smoke, then drew down another lungful. As the dry sting slid down her throat, her hips jerked involuntarily, and her eyelids fluttered.
With each breath of sharp, musky smoke, Hazel drooped toward the bed. Within minutes, she was splayed out on her back, legs dangling off the edge and spread open. Her hand pressed firmly between her thighs and her fingers pumped away at her pussy. Her eyes were unfocused, staring up at the ceiling. She imagined herself in the cafeteria bathroom, wrestling with Jordan, except instead of wrestling, they were kissing and groping each other. Then she was bouncing up and down on the bull's lap. Then she was on her knees, mouth open and...
Hazel shook her head and groaned. Her stomach turned. No, not oral. Too disgusting, too humiliating. Her fingers didn't stop pumping, though. By the time she needed another puff from the cigarette, her queasiness had passed, and she was on to fantasizing about something less uncomfortable.
Hazel's body felt heavy and her clothes tight. Her shirt had twisted around and her pants were tangling up her legs. But she didn't stop to fix them. The only thing she could focus on was the tight squeeze of her pussy around her fingers and her horny, disjointed thoughts.
Her cigarette had nearly burned down, but she sucked at it hungrily. The bed creaked and rattled as she rocked on top of it. And then she came. Her body clenched and her muscles drew tight. Her fingers were wet. Her panties were soaked. She'd had orgasms before, but never this messy. Panting, she sat up and dropped the cigarette butt onto an empty plate. Then she slumped back onto the bed. Her tongue dragged across her empty lips compulsively.
It was a good thing she was exhausted, or she would have kept smoking.
By the time that Hazel headed out for Zoey's house, the sun had already set. The cigarettes were back in her pocket, along with her lighter. Just in case she needed it. She'd swapped out her jeans and panties for ones that weren't damp with her juices, but these ones clung to her hips and reminded her how swollen her pussy still felt.
She counted the blocks away from her house. Two, so far. Zoey was in a different neighborhood, but it was only about a twenty-minute walk. Her earbuds, clipped onto the corners of her ears, pumped pleasant indie-pop into her head, giving her something to focus on other than the needy feeling between her legs and her too-tight jeans.
Hazel stepped to one side of the sidewalk, letting a gray fox zip by on a bike. She turned and watched him pedal off, eyes glued to his ass in his tight bike shorts. Her mouth fell open and she swallowed slowly. Just imagine a warm, firm length...
Her eyes blinked. Her cheeks grew warm and she shoved her hands back into her jacket pockets. Three blocks. Her music changed tracks. She hadn't been thinking about that guy's dick.
Hazel licked her lips.
It had to be the stupid cigarette craving. She'd been itching for one since she'd fingered herself that afternoon. Forcing herself to ignore it meant that her thoughts were scattered and numb, flickering between ideas like she was groggy or anxious.
One of her hands slipped from her jacket pocket and grabbed the outline of the pack. Her claws itched along the denim, trying to satisfy her urge without giving in. It wasn't enough, though. It wasn't in her lips, wasn't going down her throat, wasn't filling her chest.
Fuck it. Fine. One more. She'd put it out before she got to Zoey's house. (Not like her parents would care.) Pausing, she stood in the glow of a streetlamp and dug out the pack and lighter. She hadn't realized that she'd started panting. She struck the lighter and lit up another cigarette.
A deep breath of the sex-scented smoke. Her chest rose against her zip-up hoodie. Holding the smoke in, she pulled the cigarette away. The front zipper on her sweatshirt struggled against the weight of her chest, then clicked down a notch. Hazel exhaled. Her ears drooped and her tail relaxed against the back of her leg. Okay. Everything was okay, she could do this.
Click. The zipper nudged down another notch. Hazel blew out her lungful of smoke and took in another drag. Click click. Her sweatshirt stretched open in the middle, exposing more of her tee shirt. The logo for a cartoon she'd been into when she was fourteen warped its letters across her bustline.
On the other side of the street, a German shepherd in a suit walked, keys in hand and phone to his ear, toward his Porsche. Hazel let the smoke slip out between her teeth as her eyes glazed over. What would it feel like to have that faux-leather seat pressing against her shoulder? To feel the rumble of the engine underneath her? To wrap her breasts around his hard—
The slam of the car door made her nearly drop her cigarette. She snapped back to reality and turned away immediately, hoping he hadn't seen her staring, and started walking again briskly.
Click click click. Hazel's chest bobbed gently in front of her, bouncing with each step she took. She unconsciously lengthened her stride, so the shifting fabric of her shirt wouldn't bother her nipples quite as much. They had swollen up, areolae thick and puffy, like those illustrations in health class of what estrus did to the female body.
By the time that Hazel reached Zoey's house, she had nearly forgotten that she was smoking. She reached out and rang the doorbell, then waited for Zoey to come to the door. The feeling of warm smoke in her throat and lungs had become routine, and so she just held the glowing cigarette in her fingers and puffed without thinking about it.
"What the fuck, Hazel?" Zoey asked, arms folded across her skull tank top.
"It's only my second!" Hazel insisted. "I wanted to...to see what kind of effect they had."
"Good job. You realize you've gone up like three cup sizes?" the panthress asked. A blank look crossed Hazel's face, then her eyes dipped down to look at her chest. Her breasts squeezed either side of her sweatshirt out of the way. Her shirt was pulled so tight that the plastic logo had begun to split.
Zoey jabbed a finger into Hazel's soft tits. A quiver ran down her left leg and a groan popped out of her mouth. Her nipple tingled afterward, buzzing like TV static.
"I didn't notice," Hazel said, her voice small. A chill set in around her. What else had she missed? The sudden paranoia, trying to second-guess all her actions, made her stomach churn. Her hand drove the cigarette back between her lips. The worried look in her eyes softened as she sucked down the smoke. By the time she breathed it out, her expression was blank again.
Zoey coughed and wrinkled her snout. "Christ, cut that out. It smells like a porno set," she said.
"Can I just finish it?" Hazel asked.
The cigarette was plucked right from her fingers. Zoey tossed it on the ground and stomped it flat beneath her heel. Hazel was still breathing heavily afterward, staring down at the butt with its spilled tobacco. Her fingers quivered and she licked her lips, then let out a deep sigh. "Thanks," she said.
Zoey stepped back into her house and held the door open for Hazel.
Sitting cross-legged in Zoey's room under the watchful eyes of her punk rock posters, Hazel sipped at her cup of hot cocoa. She had an old blanket draped over her shoulders--not to stay warm, but to keep the musky cigarette smoke smell away from Zoey's things. They had been going over what they'd seen of Jordan that day. Zoey grilled Hazel on every detail she could remember.
"But you don't think she made him wear a condom?" Zoey asked.
Hazel shook her head.
The panther sighed between her fangs and combed back her long strip of hair, which she'd shaved on the sides like a mohawk. "I know she's acting like an idiot, but she's a rabbit. What does she think is going to happen?"
"Honestly, I don't think she was thinking. Like at all." Hazel grew quiet for a moment, staring down at her fingers and remembering how easy it had been to slip on the walk over. And she had only had two cigarettes.
"And what about you?" Zoey asked. "How are you holding up?"
"I'm feeling a little better now," Hazel said, though she wasn't. "But I kept getting these intrusive thoughts. Like I'll just see a guy and poof, I'm thinking about...y'know."
"Fucking him?" Zoey offered.
Hazel pursed her lips. "Yeah."
Zoey dragged over her laptop, setting it in her lap. "Give me the pack," she said, holding out her hand. Hazel hesitated. Zoey wiggled her fingers expectantly. "I know you have it, you little druggie. I need to see it."
Hazel shifted around in her blanket and dug out the pack of cigarettes. She was fine with giving it to Zoey, honestly. It was just the dumb craving that made her instinctively want to say no. She passed Zoey the pack. Zoey propped it between her keyboard and the screen.
Hazel scooted around to watch Zoey's research. No results for 'Loose and Easy' as a brand, or for the name of the company printed on the underside of the pack. Not even a match on a reverse image search of the pack itself, just other brands of cigarettes.
"So what are we going to do?" Hazel asked.
"You're gonna go home and sleep this off," Zoey said. "I'm going to try to track down a supplier."
Hazel laughed. It felt odd, like she hadn't had a reason to laugh for months, even though it hadn't even been a day since things had gone weird. "You say that like you know what you're doing."
"I do," Zoey said. "I've watched a ton of Law and Order."
Hazel downed the rest of her hot chocolate, then got up and shed her blanket. She wove her fingers together, rolled her neck, and curled her tail to stretch her spine. Coming down from the cigarettes left her feeling stiff and creaky, like she had soot in her joints. Like she should have another smoke to feel better. Her tongue rubbed between her lips anxiously, but she kept herself from trying to grab the cigarettes back.
"Message me if you find anything," Hazel said.
Zoey set her computer aside and got up to her feet. "Sure thing. And hey, stay strong."
Once Zoey heard the front door swing shut, she put her paw on top of the pack of cigarettes. Her thumb toyed with the lid as she chewed on the corner of her lip.
4 Zoey, Monday night
All of Zoey's searching turned up nothing. She asked around at a couple different gas stations and convenience stores, but no one knew anything about the brand, beyond the fact that they had it in stock. It came in the crates with the rest of the cigarettes, and they weren't the ones who decided what to keep in stock.
And during all of her legwork, Zoey was itching to try one. It was the worst feeling, because she knew it was bad. No question, it would fuck her up. But the lingering aftertaste of the smoke was worse than the smoke itself. If she smoked again, she'd have to deal with that lingering sting in her nose later. Maybe it'd even be worse.
But the thought wouldn't leave her head. Fuck it. Try one,
Zoey left the last gas station panting softly. She'd brought the pack with her, so she could show the clerks which brand she was asking about. Her claws plucked the lid open and drew out a cigarette. She pulled out her own lighter, lit the cigarette, then drew in a practiced breath.
This wasn't like tobacco. It wasn't like weed either. What she felt most was horny. She dug her claws against the front of her jeans, rubbing against the pressure between her legs. She swirled the smoke against her tongue like wine, trying to pick it apart and figure out what was affecting her. But the more she breathed in, the more her thoughts were dragged down into her crotch.
Gently out of breath, the panther girl paused. She leaned back against a brick wall and looked out at the sodium glow of the streetlights. As cars rolled by, she imagined one of them stopping, rolling down their window, and asking about her rates. It wouldn't happen; she was dressed too punk and looked too intimidating to be a hooker, but the thought of a backseat fuck was getting her motor running. Her claws laced through her hair, brushing it back while her hips rolled absently against nothing. It was a good thing no one came by, because she was rumbling like a V8 and grinding against the wall.
Coming down from her daydream, Zoey put down the cigarette and caught her breath. Not only was she still worked up, but she could feel the faint chill of dampness against her panties. "Ah, shit," she hissed under her breath, shoving the cigarette back into her mouth. She couldn't believe Hazel had gotten over this just by fingering herself.
Behind Zoey's driver's licence (which still showed her with braces on her fangs) was her second driver's license. The one that said she was four years older than her first driver's license. She dug her wallet out of her pants, gripping the cigarette between her lips as she swapped out her fake ID.
Zoey took one last, long drag, making the tip glow and filling her lungs with smoke. The grinning skull on the front of her tee shirt stretched, as if its eye sockets were bulging. Her jaw hung open slightly, eyes glazed over, as she contemplated another drag.
Then she dropped the cigarette onto the sidewalk, stomped it out, and set out for the club.
Zoey was the kind of girl who didn't mind being right up next to the speakers at a show, but tonight, the sharp riffs were digging into her skull worse than a hangover. Worst of all, she couldn't even tell if the band was good or not. Normally, she'd be able to rate them on a scale from 'pretty good' to 'ruining the local scene', but she was zero percent into it tonight.
The drinks weren't great either, but they were cheap, and her fake ID was good enough to fool the bartender. The reason she'd came here, though, was in the small sign stuck on one of the posts by the bar: no smoking. She wasn't letting anything control her, most of all not some stupid chemical. By forcing herself to quit, she was going to break the habit before it started.
The bartender passed by and Zoey briefly imagined getting herself a faceful of his cock and balls in return for an extra drink. This shit had been happening all night, and it was more tiring than the jitters or the headache.
She got the point. She was horny. The infuriating part was that it was worse now that she'd stopped smoking. Whatever chemicals were in it, they mitigated that anxious need to fuck.
Her ears flattened against her head and her chin slumped onto the bar. Another song, another guitar line tearing straight into her head. She needed some air. Finishing off the last of her drink, the panther got up from her seat and walked through the hall toward the bathrooms, then kept going, out into the alley behind the club.
Cursing under her breath, she dragged out another cigarette. Just a few puffs, take off the edge, then she'd go back in. She clicked the lighter, pulled in the fresh smoke, and felt the vice squeezing her brain loosen. Another puff, and her hands and tail stopped twitching.
"Hey," someone said from beside her. Zoey nearly jumped, then turned to see a short-horned ram in a tank top standing a few feet away, his own cigarette in hand. "Pretty bullshit that we can't smoke inside, right?"
"Yeah," Zoey said. She breathed in another deep, smokey breath. Her areolae puffed up, hidden by her bra but tender and tight against it. Her bra held her bustline in place, though the straps were now digging into her back. Her jeans squeezed her crotch. She wanted to reach down and adjust them, but she was worried she'd start humping her hand or something.
The ram's nostrils flared and a curious look crossed his face. His hooves clopped against the asphalt. Closer now, he sniffed the air again. "Huh. You smell like...I dunno," he said, blinking a few times, like he'd had a thought that had vanished.
Zoey was breathing heavily again. Something had been on her mind too, but now there was just a blank space there, and she filled it with the first thing that came to mind. "Want to fuck?"
"Yeah," he said, as if distracted.
Zoey thumped back against the brick wall of the club, with the ram pressing up against her. His lips met hers and she felt him grinding against her front. His breathing was still deep and heavy, like he still wasn't sure what he was smelling, but couldn't keep himself from wanting to inhale more.
Their hands were at each other's clothes in an instant. Zoey's claws pried open his belt and unzipped his pants, while his thick fingers unbuttoned her jeans. Down to their underwear, they paused and pressed against each other again, humping instinctively. His shaggy fur felt prickly against her sleek coat, like a big, firm wool sweater. A rumbling growl rose from her chest and her tail lashed against the wall behind her. The crotch of her panties was already damp.
It took a soft grunt from the ram to remind them both that they needed to get out of their underwear. Zoey took advantage of the pause to suck down a few more puffs on her cigarette. The smoke flooded through her body, making her want to be touched and squeezed and fucked. The more she exhaled into the air, the more the ram's eyelids drooped and the more slack his jaw became. By the time that they had both shoved their underwear down around their thighs, his eyes had a mindless, hungry look.
But as he pressed forward, his chest met Zoey's paw, pushing firmly against him. He squinted and blinked. His blank expression turned into one of confusion.
"Condom," Zoey insisted.
It took his mind a moment to dig itself out of its hole, but realization dawned on him. He fumbled in his back pocket until he managed to pull out a small plastic pack, tear it open, and roll it down the length of his shaft. The pale latex highlighted its length and girth, showing off the way it bulged fatter around the middle.
The ram didn't even need to ask if it was good enough. Zoey grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him close again, shoving her lips against his. He closed the rest of the distance, pressing her back against the wall. The tip of his shaft parted her folds.
As their kiss broke, Zoey stuck the cigarette back between her lips and took a long pull, punctuated by the ram's steady thrusting. The smoke curled upward in waves that matched their feral rhythm.
The feeling of a firm shaft inside of her, filling her up again and again, was exactly what she'd been craving. She spread her legs, rising up onto the tips of her pawpads. Then with one quick motion, she hooked her legs around his waist. Her boots hung in the air, crossed at the ankle behind his back.
The ram wriggled against her. He grit his teeth and shut his eyes, hunching forward and snorting quickly. The pace of his thrusts picked up. He balled his hands into fists and let out a deep groan. A shudder ran all the way down to his spine, and then his hips jerked--sudden, forceful, ramming into Zoey hard enough to make her flinch upward. His balls, thick and weighty, slapped against the underside of her thighs.
Zoey squeezed herself against his chest. It felt like there was more mass to squeeze: a thicker chest, a bulkier neck. His cock, swollen and hard, pushed against her walls in a way it hadn't before. Her hands found their way up to his horns, which curled back from his head and around in one complete turn of a spiral. Her paw pads fell into the ridged grooves and she held onto his horns like handles.
At least, until she needed another drag. She pulled one hand away to keep smoking. The musky scent clung not just to her fur, but to his fur too. It filled her noset--and his too, judging by his deep, snorting breaths.
Zoey wasn't a virgin, and sex without the cigarettes just couldn't compare. Whatever drug was in them, it was flipping all her switches, opening all lines of communication with her pussy, and numbing everything that wasn't her need to fuck.
The heavy thrusting made her chest bounce. Her bra did its best to restrain her breasts, but as her tender tits thickened, it was pushed to its limit. With a plastic snap, it burst open in the back, and her heavy breasts bounced free into her tank top. They slumped forward under their own weight. With each thrust, her tank top slid up, her breasts bounced, and the low neckline framed her swollen nipples.
Zoey was taking constant drags now. She ached inside, desperate for an orgasm. Something in the back of her brain told her that if she wasn't smoking, she wouldn't be able to reach it. She kept the cigarette close to her face, puffing lungfuls of smoke between deep gasps to keep herself from losing her breath. The smoke rolled down through her body and into her hips, wrapping around her pussy, loosening her up. Her hips stretched around her partner's thick waist. Her pelvis groaned faintly under the spreading pressure.
The ram jerked suddenly again, tightening his grip on Zoey and shoving her up against the wall. A grunt rumbled from his chest, while he grit his teeth and leaned his head to the side. The slap of his balls was heavier, fatter, and more potent. His cock squeezed her tight, pushing her pussy to its limit and fighting to stay lodged inside of her. Thick muscle rippled down the sides of his neck and across his shoulders, flowing down his back. His broad chest pinned her tight to the wall. His eyes were half-lidded, staring at the brick in front of him. A bit of drool rolled from his lip and dripped onto Zoey's chest. His horns made two full turns, like big coils of rock jutting from his skull.
With a loud snort, the ram thrust, pinned Zoey against the bricks, and began to cum. A stick, wet warmth flooded through her, radiating up past her lower abdomen and into her chest and head. He had stopped thrusting, but it only took a few more pumps from her own hips to send her into a yowling climax. The cigarette, all but spent, fell to the ground beside her.
Zoey planted her boots on the asphalt. The ram straightened up, rolling his bulky neck until it cracked. A dim smile was plastered across her muzzle while she purred.
Her paws found the edge of her panties and tugged them up higher, but the waistband began to protest, pulling taut when it was only about halfway up around her black-furred ass. Zoey growled softly, trying to wiggle her hips and bounce. Finally, she wedged her panties on--but her jeans would only zip up halfway and wouldn't button.
"Uh...hey," the ram said, scratching his head as he looked down. His shaft hung heavy in front of his baseball-sized testicles. The torn scraps of his condom hung off his cock.
Zoey glanced down, then back up, now with a snarl on her lips. "What the fuck! I told you to put a condom on."
The burly ram grimaced and hefted his cock in one hand. "Shit. My dick's not supposed to be this big," he said, giving it a squeeze. A thick dribble of seed spilled onto the floor.
The panthress brushed her hair out of her face and tried to ignore the churning feeling of sticky warmth deep inside of her. Now that she knew what it was, she was embarrassed that she'd even slightly enjoyed it.
"I gotta get to a pharmacy now. Thanks," Zoey said, turning sharply and walking back toward the main street.
The ram snorted softly and shook his head. "Wait--what's your number?" he called after her, but her black tail had already vanished around the corner.
5 Hazel, Monday night
Hazel had made a stop on her way back home from Zoey's house. Not at the corner store to buy a fresh pack of cigarettes, but at the store with the neon signs and blacked out windows. As she came home, she shouted hello to her mom in the living room, then hurried up the stairs to her room and shut the door.
Her privacy assured for now, she upended the paper bag in her hands. A purple latex shaft tumbled onto the bed. She'd fretted for minutes over which one to pick, staring at sizes and shapes and styles, before grabbing an eight-inch one modeled after a canine cock. She stared at the dildo, picked it up, wobbled it in her hand, and sat down at her desk with it in her lap.
Her knee bounced anxiously. She squeezed the bulb on the dildo like a stress ball as she checked her computer. No new messages from any of her friends. She opened a tab and then immediately closed it about five or ten times. She couldn't focus. Her body ached for another round of smoking. Good thing Zoey had taken her cigarettes.
Hazel lifted the dildo in her hand. She stared the floppy tip down. Why had she bought it? It had all come in a rush of flushed cheeks and twitching fingers, and then she'd found herself in the shop, staring at the selection. She hadn't been able to pull herself away.
With her front teeth, she bit down on the tip of the dildo. Her small fox fangs found the shallow, modeled hole in the tip and plucked at it. The latex squeaked between her incisors. She stared at her computer screen, then over at the spent cigarette she'd smoked earlier that day.
Lost in her thoughts, she stared into space. Her bouncing leg bobbed higher and higher, until her knee connected with her elbow. In one firm clonk, her arm tipped up, her fist plunged toward her mouth, and the dildo's tapered tip slipped down into her throat. Her tongue and jaw shifted automatically. They loosened to offer room and slid along the shaft.
Hazel's eyes went wide. A strained ghhk squeezed from her throat. Her eyes began to water. She gripped the base of the dildo and pulled. Tears ran down her cheeks. She hunched over, gagging as she twisted the rubber knot free from her jaw. At last, with a peal of coughing and wheezing, the dildo popped free.
A knocking came at her door. "Hazel, are you okay?" her mom called.
"Fine!" she said. The strain in her throat still stung. "Swallowed some water wrong."
Hazel rubbed her throat as she sat up. Her tongue slid across her lips and her jaw fell open a little wider. Maybe if she had something between her lips, something that wasn't a cigarette, that would make the cravings lighter. A scowl twitched across her muzzle. No, not even on a fake cock. Besides, it wasn't like she could get off by fucking her mouth.
She peeled open her jeans and leaned back in her chair, trying to find the best angle for sitting. It wasn't as if she'd done this before; she didn't have anything to work from. After finding an angle to tuck her elbow, she reached up, tugging her laptop close enough that she could reach the trackpad.
Hazel laid the dildo between her legs. The now-cool saliva coating it made her shiver, but the buzzing itch in her head kept her from stopping. She pushed the dildo into her pussy. A grunt died against the back of her throat. She started to fuck herself to the top search results for "fox porn".
She wasn't very good at this. She wasn't supposed to be. She was good and nice and shouldn't have had to be clicking through pictures of hair-sprayed vixens just to try to feel normal. Her claws curled into her carpet while she slouched forward in her seat. Her cheek pressed against her shoulder. The dildo squeezed deeper into her with each push.
By the time Hazel collapsed on her bed, it had been nearly an hour. Her crotch was sore and she felt dizzy, light-headed, and nervous. She'd be fine in the morning, she tried to tell herself. She just needed sleep. She shoved her head against her pillow and clutched it tight and tried to ignore the jitters.
Hazel shuffled off the bus, ears folded flat and bags under her eyes. She had no frame of reference, but she assumed this was what a hangover felt like. Every sound, from the hiss of the bus's brakes to the grinding of her teeth, drilled into her head. She kept her eyes on her shoes and folded her arms, pulling her hands back into the sleeves of her baggy old thrift-store shirt. With her stupid big breasts to deal with, it was more comfortable than trying to squeeze into something fashionable.
Her hair was a mess, too. It was longer than it should have been, reaching her shoulders in an uneven, redheaded tousle. She barely had enough energy to get herself out of bed. Coming her dumb long hair was far too much trouble. Had to be the cigarettes, she thought. That explained Jordan's ponytail.
Hazel tried to summon up the energy to talk with Zoey and Evie at their lockers, but when she got there, they were conspicuously missing. They weren't anywhere up or down the hall, either. Itching at her cheek, Hazel texted Evie to ask where she was. Then she pulled her books from her locker and stuffed them in her pack.
By the time she was done, Evie had texted her back. South stairwell...outside?
Hazel stepped, squinting, out onto the gravel. The sound of Evie's voice came from around the corner, out of sight from the door. Hazel rounded the corner to find the doe with a cigarette butt angrily clutched between her hoof-fingers, and Zoey smoking, glassy-eyed and purring.
Hazel had grumbled about her own chest, but looking at the panthress's breasts, Hazel felt she'd gotten off easy. They were big enough that even Zoey's paws would have a hard time wrapping around them. The weight of Zoey's chest pushed against the front of her tank top, stretching the fabric tight around her bust and making it hang loose beneath. The hem had ridden up high enough that Hazel could see Zoey's black-furred bellybutton.
Zoey had made an attempt to squeeze her ass into her jeans, but they rode dangerously low on her hips, showing off the stretched-tight straps of her purple panties. While her tank top kept her decent, her swollen nipples left unmistakable dimples in the fabric. Her shaved mane of hair reached down to her chin now.
"...last of all, you're littering," Evie said, shoving the spent butt toward Zoey's face. "Which doesn't answer why the hell you're smoking those things in the first place."
Zoey blew a thick puff of smoke in Evie's face and snarled defensively. "Maybe because I want to," she said. "You can't fucking tell me what to do."
Lipgloss glistened on the panthress's lower lip. Hazel licked her lips without thinking about it.
"They made Jordan dumb and slutty and now they're doing the same to you. I think I have a right to tell you to stop!" Evie stomped her hoof on the gravel. Hazel flinched. She'd never heard Evie shout like that before.
Zoey grabbed one of her tits with her free paw and squeezed the soft flesh. Her cleavage bulged upward as if trying to burst through her neckline. "Yeah? Well maybe I like having tits and getting laid. Quit trying to control me."
Evie opened her mouth to speak, but got a big cloud of smoke right in the face. Staggering back, she coughed and shook her head, then glared at Zoey. "Fine! Ruin your life. I've got to get to class," she said, then brushed past Hazel. While Evie had pinned her face into a scowl, she couldn't hide the fact that her eyes were watering.
Hazel watched her white-tipped tail vanish behind the door, then turned to look at Zoey. "Christ, you started smoking too?" she said.
"I tried to stop, but it's really good," Zoey said. Her ears fell back and her tail swished eagerly as she took a deep drag. Her tank top stretched a little further. Maybe it was Hazel's imagination, but she almost thought she heard the seams creaking. "Really good when you're having sex."
Hazel squeezed her paws into fists and tried to stay to the side, out of the smoke Zoey was blowing. "You--wait, you had sex last night? Like, with someone else?"
Zoey nodded. "Yeah. Only thing was the idiot fucking popped his condom. Had to get one of those morning-after pills." She paused to take in another deep breath of smoke, then blew it out in front of her. Hazel could still smell it on the air, and it was setting off her jitters. Zoey continued, "And the fucked up thing is, I think I liked it."
"Zoey, you have to stop." Hazel grabbed Zoey by the arms and stood in front of her, looking plaintively up into her eyes. "You don't need these cigarettes to fuck guys."
Another puff of smoke left the panthress's mouth. Hazel caught it square in the face and her eyelids drooped. Her thighs squeezed together and a pang of need curled through her stomach. But with an immense force of will, she kept her thoughts straight. Get Zoey to quit.
"Give me the pack," Hazel said.
Zoey sneered. "So you can smoke the whole thing?"
"We'll throw it away. Then no more smoking. Promise?"
Zoey looked down at Hazel. Then she sighed and threw her cigarette on the ground. She pulled the pack from where she'd wedged it into her jeans pocket and passed it to Hazel.
On the way back inside, Hazel pitched the cigarettes into the trash can, hard enough that it clunked against the side. Zoey stared at the trash can, then at Hazel, then twitched her whiskers. "See you," she said, and turned to head into the the hall
The second morning bell rang. As Zoey headed off to her first class of the day, Hazel set off up the stairs. She slipped the two cigarettes in her palm into her pocket. Everyone always said foxes had quick fingers. Sometimes they were right.
6 Zoey, Tuesday morning
It was fourth period. Zoey squirmed in her seat and tried to keep her thighs pressed together. She'd gone the whole morning without another smoke. But she'd only done, what, five last night and two in the morning? She wasn't hooked, she was just trying it out. Her claws rubbed at her temple, then brushed through her loose mane.
1. Give two factors that explain why civilizations tend to form in river valleys.
The pencil in her hand was about as thick as a cigarette. She lifted it to her lips and nibbled at the eraser, but it didn't help her cravings. Again she looked at the question. They'd talked about that at the beginning of the year. She tried to think back.
She shut her eyes and imagined herself propped up on the teacher's desk. Her face was down, legs in the air, held up by a strong lion's paws. His coarse fur brushed against her body as he ground against her hips from behind. As his cock filled her, he grabbed her hair and pulled back, hard. He leaned down next to her ear and told her she'd been bad, and bad girls didn't get condoms. He let go and her head clunked forward against the desk.
Zoey blinked. The room was quiet: nothing but the scratch of pencil against paper, and her own deep breathing. Focus, she told herself. She'd come back to that first question. She swallowed and looked at the next one.
2. Explain the difference between ideograms and an alphabet.
Okay, not too hard. They'd had a snow day the day they were planning to cover early writing systems in class, so she'd read over the material at home. All she had to do was remember what the difference was. She bit the back of her pencil and tried to think.
Her mind took her back to her house. Her cheek and shoulder were shoved up against the wall. The tiger's claws were on her thighs. He kept her legs spread open while he slammed into her. All she could see of him were his white chin and whiskers and sharp, gleaming grin. Zoey yowled and sunk her claws into the wall. They scored tracks through the paint. Her toes clenched at the air. Her hair fell in front of her face, draped around her snout. His cock throbbed and shot his hot seed into her. Her hips jerked involuntarily and her eyes rolled back in their sockets.
Zoey opened her eyes again, breathing heavily and damp between her thighs. For a few moments, she thought her fantasy had been real. A brief panic washed over her before she realized that it was just herself. Fuck, she thought, scratching at her arm. Why was getting fucked bareback turning her on so much?
By the end of the period, she'd scribbled down a few sparse answers in a shaky hand. It was all she could muster between the distractions and the way her hands were starting to quiver. How long was this going to last? Eyes glassy, she grabbed her bag, folded her arms underneath her heavy breasts, and left the room. She nearly plowed into Evie, who'd been waiting just outside.
"Oh," Zoey said, cutting herself off before she said 'sorry'.
Evie bit her lip. "Hey, I uh, wanted to apologize for yelling at you. It was mean and the whole reason I like you is because you're independent. You shouldn't change that Um," she said, scratching behind one of her ears, "do you have an extra cigarette? I wanted to, uh, you know, study it."
"No, I pitched the whole pack," Zoey said.
Evie grimaced and bit back the second half of 'shit'. "Shhh—okay, have you seen Jordan around?"
Zoey shook her head. "No...don't think she even came in."
"Mmph," Evie said, holding in another swear. "Okay. That's fine.That's fine."
Without warning, Evie hugged Zoey around the waist, which left her head right at chest level. The doe tipped her head against Zoey's chest, resting her nose against her black fur and breathing deeply. Zoey patted her on the shoulders. A pretty normal three-second hug became five seconds, then ten, then Zoey asked, "Uh, you okay?"
Evie pulled back, blinking the vacant look out of her eyes. "Ah, sorry," she said, licking her lips. "I've got to get to class. See you later."
Zoey watched her doe friend click off down the hall as if she was on an urgent mission. Curious, the panthress leaned down and sniffed her cleavage. All she could smell was the cigarettes' sex-and-smoke musk.
7 Evie, Tuesday afternoon
Academically, there were numerous reasons why Evie shouldn't smoke. Even regular cigarettes were detrimental to your health, and these weren't regular cigarettes. She wished she knew someone who had a mass spectrometer and could do chemical analysis. Maybe then she could figure out just what was in them that was making her want to fucking smoke so bad.
Evie took a deep breath and kept her composure. Maybe it was a particular concentration of nicotene, though she was fairly sure they weren't tobacco cigarettes. Maybe it was something to do with the pheromone-laced scent of the smoke. What she knew was that she was absolutely not going to start smoking just because Zoey had blown smoke in her face. That was preposterous. Her hands were just shaking because she was cold.
The doe dug her phone out of her pocket and sat back in the bus seat. She didn't need to bother her friends' group chat if she just wanted to talk to Jordan. She tapped on the jockish rabbit's picture and quickly tapped out a message to her.
Hey didn't see you at school, where are you?
Evie sent the message, then stared out the window at the houses rolling by, following the slope of the roofs up and down. A soft chime drew her eyes back to her phone.
At the gym! One sec I'm gonna show you
Then a picture popped up. It was Jordan's smiling, buck-toothed face. Her oversized breasts were squashed against the bench she was laying on. A large, clawed fist gripped her ponytail tightly, while a thick chest loomed into view above her back. Jordan was nude; the male hunched over her had a muscle shirt on. Given his sleek black fur and the patches of brown on top of his pecs, Evie could guess he was a Doberman.
Lol he's mad that I took a picture
Wants to know if you think he's hot?
Evie didn't know what to do. She was smart at a ton of things, but socially, she was remedial at best, and this wasn't a situation she'd studied for. She stared at the blank text box.
Yeah he's pretty hot for a dog
There was a long wait. The ellipsis that said Jordan was typing popped up, then went away, then popped up again.
When I'm done ruining your friends pussy your next
The picture that followed was blurry, but still made Evie blush and flip her phone over, suddenly self-conscious that someone else might be looking. The image was burned into her mind: a shot from the Doberman's perspective, showing the lower half of his torso, Jordan's back, and the angry red knot half-squeezed into Jordan's vagina.
Evie shuddered. That was more than she'd ever wanted to see of her friends. She tapped the back button a few times, then flipped the phone over again, but Jordan was already offline. Her 'partner' must have turned off her phone.
Evie stuffed her phone back in her pocket and leaned against the window. The cold, slightly metallic smell of the bus eased her twitching cravings a little. At her stop, she shuffled out of her seat and started the walk home.
Her usual shortcut took her through the wooded backyards; it saved time versus taking the long way around. As she was about to leave the sidewalk, she passed the gas station near her house. Her fingers fiddled with the seams on her jeans. She'd go in and do a quick bit of reconnaissance, then head home.
"Do you sell Loose and Easy cigarettes?" she asked, arms folded across her chest, glaring through her glasses at the cashier.
"Uh, yeah," the young hyena said. He scratched his mane, then pointed up to the familiar-looking pastel-colored pack sitting up on the racks with the rest of the cigarettes.
Evie twitched and sniffed loudly. "Do you know anything about their harmful side effects?"
He shrugged. "They're cigarettes, right? It's got the thing on the front of the box. The warning."
Her glare only grew more intense as she tore a ten-dollar-bill out of her wallet. Slamming it on the counter, she yelled, "I would like a pack of them, please."
After leaving the gas station, Evie shrugged her backpack off of one shoulder and dug through the outer pockets. Her school bag was also her bag for day hikes, so if she'd forgotten to take it out...
She tugged her lighter from one of the front pockets. Very handy to have when camping. She looked around, to make sure that no one was around, then slipped into the strip of woods that ran between the back yards.
Shaded by the trees and brush, she didn't have to worry about anyone seeing her crack the pack open. Despite the tremble of her fingers, she managed to get cigarette between her lips, light the tip, and take a drag.
Her throat threatened to make her cough, but by forcing her mouth shut, she managed to keep from wheezing out. She was going to allow plenty of time for the smoke to be absorbed by her alveoli, give her body a dose of whatever active ingredient was in these cigarettes, and then stop.
And then the high hit her. It was like falling into a soft armchair, one where you could really sink into the cushions. Evie leaned against a tree for support as she breathed out the smoke, then pulled in another lungful. Her head felt the same way her tail did when she sat on it until it fell asleep. Like she could trace the outline of where it was supposed to be, but it didn't feel there.
Evie wandered along, following the sporadic row of fences until she reached her own backyard. There, she paused, slumping against the trunk of a tree and sliding down until she was sitting. Her head tipped back until it bumped up against the bark. One hand tucked between her legs, she rubbed at her crotch absently and stared up at the canopy of leaves.
Everything felt so peaceful, she didn't even have to think.
A sharp heat brushed her fingers. "Ow!" she yelped. The cigarette, burnt down to a butt, fell to the ground. Her fingers weren't hurt, but as she sat up and got to her feet, she felt distinctly different. Off-balance. After kicking some dirt over the butt to hide it, she headed over the fence and up toward her house. She tugged the front of her flannel shirt down, trying to pull it flat against her chest. Her ponytail swished behind her, batting against her shoulderblades.
8 Hazel, Tuesday evening
Hazel's combo of baggy shirt, panties and socks was an attempt to deal with how her figure had changed. All day long, she'd had to deal with more tits and ass than she'd had in her life, and it left her feeling like she was wearing someone else's body. Someone with a lot more padding than she had. Someone who kept bumping into her own boobs.
On the bright side, she hadn't smoked all day. Even the two cigarettes she'd pinched before school were sitting, unused, on the dish she'd used as an ashtray. If she'd left them in her pocket, they'd be a constant temptation.
School had been rough. Answering questions in class was like wading through molasses and her jitters hadn't helped. Even now at home, she could barely even type. Her leg wobbled and if her hands weren't holding onto something, they were quivering. Not even shoving them under a pillow and laying in bed could stop her from wriggling. She had started clenching her jaw, making a constant click-click-click as her teeth tapped together.
She had to do something, but she couldn't smoke. She had to break the habit. She had to put something in her mouth or she'd go nuts.
Hazel crawled to the edge of her bed and grabbed the dildo off her desk. Settling down on top of the sheets, she leaned on her knees and elbows. Her breasts hung underneath her, swaying gently with each motion.
Oral was degrading and uncomfortable and wasn't any fun for anyone but the guy. But she really needed something between her lips, something to suck on. (And lollipops were too small.)
The tip sagged under its own weight, angled toward her face. Her mouth hung open. A drop of drool dangled from her lower lip. One hand held the base of the dildo, the other supporting the shaft. Carefully, she threaded the tapered tip between her lips. Her jaw rolled open to take the rubber shaft and her eyes slid shut. Her lips tightened around the dildo.
Her head began to bob back and forth. Even with the taste of rubber strong on her tongue, her attempt at oral was scratching the itch she'd had all day long. Her body lit up: her ears perked then folded back, and her fluffy tail twitched eagerly behind her. Her upper hand let go of the dildo. She tugged at the sleeve of her shirt, pulling the cuff over her palm. Her hand, half-hidden in her sleeve, crept down between her legs. She pushed down the waistband of her panties.
Just imagine a handsome fox. The cute, charming sort of guy she'd always wanted as a boyfriend. Then it was easier. Her throat relaxed, and she could slide the dildo deeper. Her fingers, still trembling, found her folds and began to rub as best she could. Now her whole body was rocking, moving her head and hips in unison. Her bed creaked rhythmically underneath her.
Hazel's cheeks tightened. Her lips pulled on the shaft and she closed her jaw to put a bit of pressure on the rubber cock. Cute fox. Make him happy. Maybe he'll fuck me when he's done. A drop of her juices rolled onto the sheets as she parted her folds. Her pawpads squeezed into her plump pussy. Even with her eyes closed, she could see the stars popping in her vision. Her bed thunked against the wall as it rocked back and forth.
Her nervous cravings kept her moving. Her chest rose and fell. She twisted around the shaft digging into her throat. Her body felt like jelly, floppy and numb and useless except for her mouth and her hand. One sucked, the other fingered, and together, they kept her too busy to think about anything else, like the noise she was making, the fact that she hated oral, or the craving to keep smoking.
Her teeth bumped up against the knot. As her jaw was forced open again, her perfect-boyfriend fox vanished from her mind. In his place was a big wolf: burly, shoulders hunched, clutching her scalp. Her pussy clenched and she nearly collapsed onto the sheets. She could almost hear that growl in her ears and smell the thick musk on his coarse pubic fur.
Pop. The joint of her jaw snapped as the knot popped into her mouth. Her tongue darted against it, lapping as much of its firm, swollen shape as she could. Good slut. Take the knot. Maybe he'll knot your pussy next.
Hazel's hips jerked and she hunched her shoulders. Thin strings of her juices dripped onto the bed, forming a damp patch on the sheets. Her muscles clenched and squeezed her fingers. She could almost taste the wolf seed spraying down her throat. Her body pumped against her fingers a few times, while her jaw clenched around the knot. Her eyes crossed slightly as they rolled back.
The vixen slumped against the bed, breathing deeply through her nose. The knot was still wedged between her jaws. Groggily, she groped at the base and pulled. And pulled again. On her third attempt, the knot popped free. After a deep gasp of air, she licked her lips and groped for the cigarettes she'd swiped from Zoey.
She sucked down a fresh lungful of smoke. After a day without, it was heaven. All the anxiety of withdrawal fell away, and her mind was blissfully quiet. Another puff. Her eyelids drooped and she slurped up a little bit of drool. After spending all day battling headaches and shivering and oversensitivity, the numbness sweeping through her head was bliss. Too pleasant to put down the cigarette. She needed to keep smoking.
The vixen lifted her head and wrapped one hand across her chest. Her fingers squeezed her soft breasts loosely. Her head dropped back onto the sheets. While she smokes,she kneaded her tits. Each breath in pressed against her pawpads, stretching her breasts a little tighter. The front of her baggy shirt slowly tightened while she lay in bed, mindlessly sucking on her cigarette. She felt the weight and size more than the pressure, like laying in bed with two plush pillows on her chest. They were warm and soft and her tender skin glowed at the touch.
Snap. Hazel's head bobbed up again, this time peering past her rack and down to her waist. On the right side, her panties had snapped at the hip. Groggily, she rubbed her hand along her side, feeling the thickness of her curves and giving her butt an experimental squeeze. She was wider across at the hips than her shoulders, and she had a tight, rounded ass to match. Her thighs squeezed together as she thought back to those vixens she'd seen while searching for fox porn.
Hazel laid back and sucked on her cigarette until she was no longer worried about sucking on dildos or her porno body or trying to quit smoking. Big tits were great and sucking dicks was great and these cigarettes were great. At least, they were as long as her afterglow lasted.
9 Zoey, Tuesday evening
On the way back from school, Zoey ducked into the convenience store to buy a fresh pack of Loose and Easy. She hadn't forgotten her promise to quit, she was just so horny and twitchy that she needed to take the edge off. She was on her second cigarette by the time she got home.
By four in the afternoon, she was splayed back in her chair in her room. One hand held her cigarette, the other squeezed between her thighs. A makeshift ashtray was within arm's reach, letting her sit and smoke and watch the playlist of feline-on-feline porn she'd dug up. Her fingers were soaked, her chair was damp, and her pussy was swollen and tender.
An hour later she was sprawled out on the bed. Her tits sagged to either side of her chest under their own weight. After all that horny rubbing, her pussy was too tender to touch, so instead she kneaded her breasts with her paws while she smoked. Her throat rumbled like a huge housecat. Her thick fingers roved across her expansive bustline, occasionally cupping them to squeeze them together, but mostly rubbing her swollen nipples with her paw pads. Her breasts weren't quite the size of her head--but they weren't far off. Zoey wasn't sure whether to call them porn tits or cow tits, but point was, they were big.
By six, if she took a deep drag on her cigarette, she could hear creaking. It wasn't her clothes; she was still nude. It was her body, her bones and joints stretching to push her hips wider, to give her an ass that could make any panther jealous, to give her tits so big that they were wider than her ribs themselves. The sound of her body straining to become even more sexual sent a dim, feral thrill through her.
She took a long breath of smoke and held it in. Her strip of hair tickled as it crept longer. Her pelvis spread wider, like a force was pushing against the bone itself. Her thick thighs framed her swollen pussy. Her ass pressed against the sheets, soft and thick, while her hips jerked reflexively, trying to thrust against something that wasn't there.
Her free paw kneaded her stomach. The more she smoked, the more she could feel the heavy presence of her womb. Of course she'd always known it was there, like she knew where her liver and kidneys and all were, but she'd never felt it. Now it was a constant reminder. The pressure, the weight of it, even though she wasn't pregnant--it was there, and she couldn't ignore it.
The clock by her bed said seven thirty-four. Zoey set down the scissors and tossed aside the scraps of gray fabric, admiring her work in the mirror. Her pentagram tank top had been trimmed down until it barely covered the bottom of her chest. Sleek black fur peeked out in all directions, hardly restrained by the new bare-midriff tank top. Likewise, she'd trimmed down a red-and-black tartan miniskirt to half its original length. It barely kept her decent now, revealing everything from her hips down to her thick black boots. A bit of purple lipstick and eyeshadow made her face pop. Her mane of hair draped against one cheek, long enough to fall down past her shoulder.
Zoey looked like a slut. But you know what? She didn't give a fuck what people thought of her. All that mattered was what she wanted, and she wanted to get bred.
Once she was at the club, Zoey was on the prowl. She knew, in a vague sense, that her thoughts were clouded. She'd struggled to remember what her fake age was supposed to be when the bouncer asked for her ID, and she'd almost gotten lost while walking here. But now she felt more alert and aware than she'd ever been. Her eyes roved from guy to guy, tuning out the music as she stalked around for her prey. She wanted feline. Something that'd have a good chance of leaving her pregnant. She could feel all the eyes that were pointed her way, taking in her body, but hadn't found anyone worth pursuing yet.
She had to take breaks out behind the club to smoke, to keep herself from starting to feel withdrawal again. On her second smoke break, she paced up and down the back alley, taking deep, rejuvenating drags from her cigarette, when the door to the bar swung open.
Into the alley stepped a young lion in a snug band tee shirt, with his mane trimmed tight and short. All that Zoey needed was a whiff of his feline scent. Her ears perked up, her chest pushed forward, and her free paw slid down to rest on her hips. Her loud rumbling shimmered in the air.
"Hey, you," he said, scowling. "Sean said I'd find you here. What the hell did you do to..." His broad feline nose flared. His eyes glazed over. His look of anger softened into confusion as he breathed in again. "...fuck, you smell good."
Zoey pulled a deep breath of smoke into her mouth, then blew the thick puff out into the lion's face. He didn't flinch, he just closed his eyes and let it dissipate against his fur. When he opened his eyes again, his eyelids were drooping and his jaw had slackened.
"So do you," Zoey said. The black panthress bared her fangs as she leaned against the brick wall. Her thumb ran up along her hip, lifting the edge of her skirt. "So we gonna fuck, or what?"
"Yeah," the lion said. His glazed eyes were fixed on Zoey, on her huge tits bulging out of her tank top and her thick, child-bearing hips. Her skirt was short enough that he could see her pussy, bare and glistening faintly in the yellow sodium light.
The lion was on her in seconds. He wedged himself up against Zoey, pushing her between him and the wall. Her arms draped over his shoulders. The tip of her cigarette bounced, held between her lips. She breathed in the thick smoke, then blew it out through her nose into the lion's face. He took in a deep breath, and his eyelids batted.
The lion's paws gripped her by the thighs. With a quick tug, her feet left the air and her thighs locked around his waist. His pants jingled as they dropped around ankles. Bare cock brushed against bare pussy, and then with a firm thrust, he slipped inside her.
Zoey bit down on the cigarette. She didn't want to lose it, not now, when each breath made her lungs ache and her head tingle and intensified the feeling of every single thrust. Nothing numbed her mind quite like fucking and smoking, losing her head to the smoke and her body to the lust. Her arms slowly wrapped around his shoulders. She clung to him, propped up against the wall by his weight.
A loud, lazy rumble rose out of Zoey's chest. She arched her chest until her breasts pushed against the lion's chest. Each pump of their hips shoved her tits tight against him. His jaw hung open, eyelids half-closed like he was almost struggling to stay awake. The panthress was puffing like a smokestack right into his face and he was breathing it down without a second thought.
The lion blinked sleepily. A soft growl rolled from his chest. "You going to keep smoking?" he asked. He wrinkled his snout and bared his fangs at her.
Zoey's hands idly stroked his mane, tugging the fur back between her fingers, combing it between his claws. With each pass of her paw pads, there seemed to be more coarse fur to grab. "Got a problem?" Zoey asked. She picked up the cigarette in her hand, just for long enough to curl her lips into an O and blow a thick breath of smoke right into his face.
Because they were squeezed so tight together, she heard the soft creaks and snaps of joints adjusting, sinew shifting, and fur bristling. The more smoke he breathed in, the more of him there was to fuck her. His arms were thick and his mane rough and his growls deep. The lion's paws gripped her thighs and heaved her higher into the air, to make up for his new height. Zoey's feet dangled behind him, while her back was propped up against the brick wall.
But it wasn't the thrusting or the growling or the mane, though they were all making her instincts go wild in their own way. What made it all click for her was the firm slap of his balls against her crotch. Each time they bumped against her, it was a reminder of his fertility. The fact that he was going to pump her full of his seed. The hope that she'd end up swollen and pregnant.
"Are you a fucking lion or what?" she hissed. The tip of her cigarette glowed red as she sucked down another deep breath of smoke. Holding it in her lungs, she let the warm, dry smoke scour her mind, then blew it out, watching the wisps curl over the lion's snout.
More creaking. The stitches on his shirt strained. His claws unsheathed themselves, pressing against her soft skin to help grip her. His mane inched out around his face, spreading further down front of his chest. Coarse, dark fur peeked out from beneath the straining collar of his band tee. "Yeah, I am," he said, almost like he was confused.
"Then fuck me like a lion," she growled. Reaching out, she grabbed his chest hair and pulled, hard. The front of his tee shirt tore open in a series of sharp snaps. His thick pecs rose up against her as he breathed in deeply. His lips wrinkled into a snarl. In retaliation, he knocked her back against the wall with a powerful thrust. Zoey's happy rumbling grew.
Bits of cigarette ash bounced into the air. Zoey jerked her hips against the lion's angry thrusts. Their hips crashed together, and each crash came with a good, thick thwack of his balls. Bigger and heavier. More balls meant more cum meant knocking her the fuck up. Her mound was swollen, hugging the thick lion shaft that filled it up. Her claws dug into the lion's mane.
Her head was bubblewrap, and each thrust was a little pop. So satisfying, so crisp and clear, that she wanted to do it again and again, to feel her thoughts popping under the pressure of her breeding instinct. And the whole time, she was sucking on her cigarette. It had burned down low, less than a third left. Her lungs tightened and she blew out a plume so thick that it clouded in front of the lion's face.
Out of the smoke emerged the snarling visage of the lion, sharp and heavy and bestial. "You wanna fuck like a lion?" he asked, a rumble in his voice that made Zoey's pussy tighten. His mane was thick, shaggy, almost feral-looking. A thick mat of dark fur spread across the front of his heavy chest. All-new things tripped Zoey's mating instincts: the length of his whiskers, the size of his canines, the black lip that rimmed his snarl. Holy shit just breed her right now. All she could think about was getting filled.
The lion lifted her up into his thick arms, turned her around, and shoved her face against the wall. Squeezed between the wall and the lion, Zoey thrashed and yowled. Her claws raked against the brick and her boots kicked at the air. The lion let out a deep, resounding growl and pressed down against her, forcing the air out of her lungs until she could no longer fight. All the while, his cock split open her folds, pulling her tight around its girth.
Zoey's gasping became a string of obscenities, which became inarticulate growling, and then she came. She'd wanted to wait for him, but she couldn't hold it in. Her muscles clenched and spasmed and her juices rolled down around the lion's cock. A sharp twinge of relief shot through her belly. Each of his thrusts was a tight grind, like muscle against muscle. She bared her teeth and sunk her claws into the wall.
At last, he came. Slamming her against the wall, he let out a roar that could make a tiger jealous. His balls beat against her thighs one last time. Then came the rush: hot and heavy, flooding her body with his seed, filling her until she thought she was full and then filling her some more. When he was done, her pussy was a mess of leaking cum and her own juices.
Zoey started to wriggle herself free, but then a powerful paw grabbed her by her mane of hair and tugged, hard. She yowled and craned her head back, staring into the lion's dim, horny eyes from upside down.
"You're not leaving 'till I'm sure you're knocked up," he growled. He smelled like musk. Zoey wanted to shove her face into his chest and nuzzle and lick at that thick mane fur until she fell asleep on it, like a firm, virile pillow.
Wasn't there some fact about lions like...they bred for hours straight during mating season?
Zoey shuddered. Her pussy clenched around the lion's cock.
10 Evie, Tuesday evening
It was hard, being a valedictorian. Everyone expected you to be smart all the time, as if doing well on tests was proof that you were good at everything. Evie had to pick the right college too, and the right major and make sure her GPA was high enough that she'd get an honors scholarship and...
Really, she deserved a cigarette.
Her hooves fiddled with her auburn hair anxiously. A haircut was in order, as her ponytail was down past her shoulders. She glanced down at the small bowl she'd pilfered from the kitchen, with a thin layer of ash and three cigarette butts stubbed into it like ruined columns.
She glanced up at her computer screen. On it was her term paper for World History, with three words written on the first page: The Renaissance was. She knew what it was, of course, but finding the words for it was hard, especially when she was anxious about the smell of cigarette smoke and the way she'd been horny ever since getting home and the fact that her fingers wouldn't stop quivering.
Being a valedictorian was particularly hard because she knew other people had more interesting lives than hers. She would have loved to go to track meets with Jordan or to the club to see one of the bands Zoey liked, but she was always too busy and too well-behaved. She hadn't even had sex yet. Zoey definitely had, but her? Nope, not even a boyfriend.
The Renaissance was a period of time
Evie sighed; the four extra words had come with great effort. If she forced herself to put words on the page, she might build up momentum and start writing. Except that was as far as she got before stopping, again, and sinking her cheek into her palm.
Even though she was smart, it didn't mean she had any better control over her body. She couldn't think her way into someone's pants, no more than she could think her way out of her cigarette cravings. See, that was another bit of proof that she wasn't as smart as people assumed: she was hooked just like Zoey.
With a groan, she dropped her head into her hands and rubbed at her eyes, trying to rid herself of the baggy-eyed, groggy feeling clinging to her fur. She felt fatigued, but not sleepy.
The Renaissance was a period of time where a lot of things changed.
Evie read the sentence back to herself. It sounded like the start of an eighth-grade essay, not a paper written by a senior. She needed to get her mind off her withdrawal so she could focus.
Cigarette between her fingers, camping match struck against the box. She lifted it to her lips and breathed in and felt all that weight lift off her shoulders. Take or leave the spike of arousal; what got her was the empty-headed feeling that came with it. Evie wasn't the sort who could ever think about nothing, but with the smoke steeping in her lungs, her mind opened up and let all the things she kept inside come tumbling out. It was a sort of clarity, even if it made it hard to think.
Evie breathed out the smoke, slouched back into her computer chair, and stuck her hooves underneath her panties. Her folds were puffy and slick already. The sensation of her smooth hoof-fingers against her pussy bounced around in her skull, with no distractions to muffle it. It was like listening to an orchestra live in a concert hall. Her ears flicked back as she drew in another long breath of smoke.
Her chest ached. Bringing one hand up to cup it, she found her bra had squeezed against her breasts, tight and ill-fitting. Pursing her lips to hold her cigarette, she fumbled behind her back, picking at the clasp under her shirt, but she just couldn't grasp the topology. With a frustrated groan, she dropped her hands and took another deep drag on her cigarette.
The tightness across her chest only grew worse. The straps of her bra sunk into her shoulders, the cups squeezed tight across her bust, and the plastic clasp bent under the strain.
Her chest wasn't the only place feeling tight, though. Taking only tight, careful breaths, she leaned forward enough to run her hands down along her back. Past her white-tipped tail, her hips flared outward into the soft curve of her ass. Evie squeezed her fingers, feeling the gentle pressure pushing her figure outward. Always willowy and slim, now Evie had actual, honest-to-god curves.
Still, she had to get out of her bra. That was one thought that hung around, even in her smoke-dazed mind. And the solution she came up with was easy, if not smart: she'd smoke it out. Closing her eyes, she sucked in as much smoke as possible, until her lungs and throat and tongue were thick with the hot, dry, stinging musk.
The strange sounds of shifting mass worked their way up through her body from her thicker hips and plumper pussy. Her panties were snug, but her bra was impossibly tight. It still didn't give. She tried again, sucking down another breath of smoke. A few teetering creaks came from her bra, then a snap, a sudden force that tugged her chest forward. Her back stung where the clasp had broken open, while her breasts squashed against the front of her flannel shirt. The gaps between the buttons offered a peek at her white-furred cleavage.
Jaw slack and cigarette held between her fingers, Evie cupped her breasts experimentally. She could palm them easily enough, but anything looked big to her, when she'd lived her whole life never much more than an A-cup. They were heavy and they pressed against each other, but she couldn't concentrate long enough to estimate their new circumference. She blinked a few times, but her eyes had glazed over and refused to focus. She sucked on her cigarette and slumped further down into her seat and stuck her hand beneath her panties again.
Now back to fingering herself, it didn't take her long to work up to an orgasm. She was already tender, and her mind was in so much of a haze that she couldn't hold back. Her hips jerked into the air, bucking against an invisible partner, until her body clenched around her fingers. It was like a string had been tied from her pussy to her head, and as soon as she started to cum, it tugged something down from her brain and left it dripping out of her pussy when it was done.
With a blank stare, Evie brought her wet fingers up in front of her face. Dimly, she realized she couldn't recall a single line of Shelley. She wiggled her fingers, watching the juices glisten on her hooves. Had she just orgasmed a whole poet out of her head? Or maybe it was a placebo effect, or maybe she was confusing correlation, or...her thoughts fell apart. She shifted in her chair and pressed her knees together. She was still horny.
A grin tugged at the corners of her mouth. She breathed in another deep drag of smoke and let her eyelids droop. She had never been a fan of Byron. Maybe she could cum him out of her head too. She spared the cigarette from her mouth long enough to lick her fingers clean, then sank back into the cloud of smoke as she started to finger herself again.
11 Hazel, Tuesday evening
Hazel couldn't let herself slip again, and that's why she was deepthroating a dildo. The only way to keep herself from wedging another cigarette into her mouth, it seemed, was to make sure her mouth was far too busy.
If there was one problem, it was that her dildo wasn't big enough. It left enough room for her jaw to flex and didn't properly fill her mouth, and she could only get it so deep into her throat. Maybe if it was about an inch thicker, maybe four inches longer, then she could really get behind that.
The fact that she hated oral wasn't lost on her. She still didn't like it, but these were dire circumstances that required drastic measures. It was not, and she told herself this again and again, not because she had some kind of fixation on putting cock in her mouth. The fact that she was fingering herself every time she rammed her dildo down her throat had more to do with her cravings than the notion that she was actually getting off on giving oral.
With one hand managing the shaft in her mouth, she wobbled around her room in her sweater, searching for her phone, which had gone missing in the midst of discarding her school things earlier in the afternoon. She found it in the pocket of her jeans, with the notification light gently blinking. Four missed calls, all from Evie's number. A blush warmed her cheeks. How long had she been zoned out while facefucking herself?
Hazel grunted softly as she extracted her dildo from her mouth. Her throat relaxed and she took a deep breath. If Evie had called her four times, something had to be up. Digging out an old pair of sweatpants that she could wedge her thick ass into, Hazel set the first message playing on speakerphone.
Evie's voice was hesitant; she could almost hear her trembling. "Hey, it's Evie. I'm, uh, having some issues with the cigarettes. You seem to know what you're doing so do you think you could come over and help? I'm...trying really hard but I can't stop. I've smoked like...six? Maybe I just need someone to hide them. I don't know."
That first message had been two hours ago. Hazel shoved on some sandals, grabbed earbuds, and hurried out the front door with her phone in one hand and the other holding down her chest to keep it from bouncing around. She hit play on the second message.
Now, she could tell the doe was out of breath, and her voice sounded a bit further away, like she wasn't holding the phone to her face. "Hey, Evie again. I tried but I, uh...I can't stop...you know, fingering," she said, as quietly as she could. "And if I don't, I start to need a cigarette, and if I don't smoke, it gets me hornier. I need to stop. Really really need to stop. If you're upset about me yelling at Zoey I apologized and we're cool now so please just come over."
Hazel would have jogged, but her baggy clothes only covered up her curvaceous body, they didn't hold it down. She power-walked instead, cutting through all the shortcuts to Evie's house. The third message was only an hour ago.
"Hi, it's Evie. Um, so the smoking is probably making me stupider, but I thought, y'know, I'm pretty smart so that won't be a big deal, but...I don't think it's stopping. And I'm so horny and every time I cum I'm a little dumber and I need to stop but I can't. I keep thinking about sex and getting horny again." There was a pause, then Evie added, "I'm scared."
Hazel was only two blocks from Evie's house. She was panting softly, sweating in her concealing clothing, sweeping her long red bangs back out of her eyes again and again. She jabbed the button to play the last of Evie's voicemails.
Heavy panting and soft occasional moans were all Hazel heard. She made it up to the front door of the doe's house and knocked on it, shifting from foot to foot as her anxiety bubbled around in her head. Having missed Evie's calls was bad enough, but her own cravings set her on edge, leaving her wide-eyed and a little frantic.
The door swung open, but it wasn't Evie. Hazel's mouth went a little slack as she stared up at the college-age buck before her. She quietly counted his antlers. One-two-three-four-five-six points on each side. Her mouth watered and her throat relaxed. Her knees felt weak and her eyes darted down to the front of his shorts.
She wasn't going to ask if he wanted a blowjob.
"Is Evie home?" she asked.
"Yeah," her brother said. "Up in her room, I think."
Don't ask. Don't do it.
"C-cool, she told me to come over," Hazel said.
He leaned back toward the stairs. "Evie! Your fox friend is here!"
Hazel smiled in thanks, slipped through the open door, and hurried up the stairs before she started nuzzling the buck's crotch. Opening the door to Evie's room, she was met with the smell of stale smoke and musk, discarded cigarettes littering the floor, and no sign of Evie. The door to Evie's bathroom was closed.
Hazel quickly shut the door behind her and glanced over the scattered butts--there had to be at least fifteen of them. "Hey, Evie?" Hazel called out, walking slowly across the room to the bathroom door. No response, but she did hear shuffling from behind the door. "I'm coming in, okay?" she said, putting her hand on the doorknob.
Hazel pushed open the door to find the doe splayed out asleep on the bathroom floor, leaning against the toilet, with her shirt half-off. It was like she'd given up halfway through pulling it off her head. Her bare tits hung out, and the shirt was up around her arms like one of those cone collars. Her once-slender figure was thick and plush, and nowhere more impressive than her rack: big, heavy globes of soft white fur, jutting out from her chest round and heavy and sagging toward her lap under their own weight. Her hair had fallen out of its ponytail, and now draped down her back. She was out cold, eyes shut and drooling gently onto the arm she was leaning on like a pillow.
"Evie," Hazel said, crouching down next to her and shaking her shoulder. "Evie, wake up."
One of her legs kicked underneath her as she blinked, gazing slowly up at the vixen's face as if she didn't know what she was seeing at first. As she seemed to regain her senses, her ears folded back and she said, in a small, uncertain voice, "I'm stuck..."
"Geez, yeah you are," Hazel said. She rubbed her hands on her sweatpants to try to ease her jitters before starting to unbutton Hazel's shirt. Bit by bit, she freed her from her flannel prison. Once free, Evie eased herself into a sitting position and rolled her neck and shoulders. Her joints popped gently as she stretched.
"My boobs were getting too big for my shirt so I tried to take it off, but the, uh, buttons, I just couldn't...get them off," she said, shuffling her feet until she had pulled her knees up to her chest. Hazel knew Evie to be shy, but she'd never been this cowed before.
"Wait, buttons? You couldn't undo the buttons?" Hazel asked.
Evie's snout sunk toward her knees. "They're hard! You've got to squeeze and push and twist at the same time. I just..." Her chin rested on top of her knees as she went completely quiet. Hazel reached out a paw and patted her on the shoulder.
"I got your messages," Hazel said. "Sorry I didn't get them sooner. What happened? You were fine when we left school."
The doe rested her cheek against her knee and sighed softly. Hazel watched her hooves rub at the fur on her legs out of an urge to do something with them. She recognized the way Evie licked her lips and the anxious flicking of her ears; the cravings gave Hazel the same nervous tics.
"The smoke made me really hungry for more, so I stopped and bought some. I didn't mean to smoke them, I just wanted to study them and stuff, but then I had one...then some more...and then I found out it feels really good to, y'know, finger myself when I'm smoking. And I started cumming out all the poets I knew and then when I was done with English I think I cummed physics and Spanish but then I couldn't stop, and..." Her eyes rose from the floor to look into Hazel's eyes. "...I think I'm dumb now."
Hazel looped an arm underneath Evie's shoulders and lifted her up. There was more weight than she was used to, but she managed to get Evie on her hooves in front of her. She gave her the most comforting smile she could muster. "You're not dumb. It's just the cigarettes."
Evie's eyes fell down to her her shirt, draping open around her heavy breasts. Hazel didn't have the gardening experience to make a comparison, but her tits were big enough that the only way for Evie to grasp them was as an armful--there was simply too much mass for her hands to hold.
Hazel reached out, tugging the bottom corners of Evie's shirt up and forward. By wrapping them across the front of her breasts and tying them together, she managed to earn Evie a bit of decency, even if it left her looking rather rustic. Evie tugged the knot back open with one hoof, then tied it back up again to prove she could do it. Cautiously, the doe lifted up her huge shelf of a rack, inching her fingers around her huge tits to get a feel for just how far they stuck out.
"See, you're not dumb," Hazel said. She smiled through the stinging, lingering smell of smoke.
"I think I wanted to get stupider," the doe said, as if she was admitting she had done something wrong. "Not super dumb, but...I was mad about what everyone expected from me."
"Let's get you into some pants," Hazel said, in an attempt to distract both Evie and herself. She gently dragged the doe out of the bathroom. Hazel hoped that helping her get cleaned up and clothed would help her think straight.
The problem was that none of Evie's pants could contain her hips, even with Hazel there, trying to shove Evie's fat doe ass into them. After the fourth pair that couldn't get higher than her knees, Hazel had a brainwave and grabbed a pair of scissors. By trimming the legs off of one of Evie's pairs of jeans, she was able to get the makeshift denim shorts up around Evie's waist. She was too thick to button the front, but then Evie seemed to have...issues with buttons now.
Evie sat on her bed and fiddled with her long hair, with her other hand squeezed between her thighs. Hazel slid down to sit beside her and put an arm around her shoulder.
"Okay. You've got to stop smoking. It's going to really suck, and you're going to get a ton of cravings, but what I do is find something else to do. Maybe you could...I dunno, go hiking. Whatever it is, it's got to be something that'll keep you from smoking."
Evie chewed on her lip. Her eyes were unfocused and stared right through Hazel. "Your lips are so cute," she said
Hazel frowned. "Come on, focus."
"Call me stupid," Evie said. Her voice was no longer distant, it was clear and needy. One of her hands gripped Hazel's upper arm.
"What?" Hazel asked.
Evie leaned in closer, until Hazel could feel her hot breath against her chest. Despite her tight grip, Evie was shivering from withdrawal. "Tell me I'm a dumb doe," she said.
"Evie, calm down."
The doe's nostrils flared and she shoved her snout against Hazel's neck. With soft groans and whines, she ground her nose against the vixen's white chest fur, sniffing deeply. "I always thought you were cute. Zoey too. She's so big. And her fangs..."
Evie shuddered bodily. Her hands were constantly moving, tugging at Hazel's shirt or trying to grope her breasts or dig down between the fox's thighs. The more she breathed in whatever scent clung to Hazel's fur, the more intense her single-minded pursuit became. Between the thick, warm musk of smoke that choked the air in Evie's room and her gentle hoof-fingers eagerly grabbing at her, Hazel felt warm and tight and humid. She felt like she needed to smoke.
A shove threw Evie back against the bed. Glassy-eyed and panting, her senses slowly returned to her and she sat up, ears folded back against her head, and unable to meet Hazel's eyes.
"Sorry, I don't know—" she said, cutting herself off. She started to turn away and ball up, but Hazel reached out and held her still.
"You're gonna give me your cigarettes," Hazel said, "And you're staying here for the rest of the night. Understand?"
The wheels turned behind Evie's eyes. Why should she give up her cigarettes when Hazel was probably just going to smoke them? But Hazel had been the strongest out of all of them so far. Evie rose from the bed and grabbed her pack of cigarettes from the bathroom, then brought it back and pressed it into Hazel's waiting palm.
"You're smart. I know you can break this," Hazel said. She gave Evie a sideways hug, to keep from mashing their breasts together and getting Evie distracted again.
"Thanks," Evie said quietly. She itched at the back of her palm but managed to smile.
Hazel smiled back, then stuffed the pack into her pocket and got up. "Text me if anything comes up," she said, then headed out of Evie's room.
She thumped down the stairs, walked toward the front door, and spotted Evie's brother's antlers poking up from the other side of the couch. Her hand was reaching for the doorknob, but her feet turned. Her throat relaxed and she licked her lips. Her claws trailed along the arm of the couch as she stepped around it.
The stag blinked as Hazel blocked his view of the TV. One hand on her hip, her chest rose and fell. The thick swells stuffed beneath her sweater rose and fell too. Despite her best attempts to hide it, Hazel couldn't entirely cover up her new figure.
She pointed a finger at him. "You cannot tell your sister about this."
Then she fell to her knees and grabbed his crotch. She was angry at herself for doing this, angry that she wanted it, angry that he wasn't trying harder to stop her. But all of that was bubbling inside her head. On the outside, she had a glazed, determined look in her eyes and her mouth was hanging open.
Her fingers made quick work of his fly, then pulled down his pants and underwear together in one excited tug. She couldn't stop breathing deeply. The scent of a male hung right before her nose. His cock flopped free and she gripped the base of it, squeezing gently. With her other hand, she guided the tip between her lips. Her mouth pulled tight and she began to rock back and forth. Her nose squished up against his crotch, where she breathed in fresh snorts of his musk. Then she bobbed back, her lips a snug seal around his shaft. Then forward, then back, then forth...
Her tongue lapped away at the underside of his cock while the tip speared deeper and deeper into her throat. Not a gag or even a strain. Her pussy was gently drooling so she shoved a hand under her sweatpants and rubbed herself.
Hazel's cheeks burned in frustration. She pushed faster, sliding down as hard as she could, making her throat bulge around the tip of his shaft. Her attempt to speed up only made her craving even more thick and desperate. Her claws clutched his pubic fur, using it as leverage to pull herself down harder over his cock.
A grunt came from the stag beneath her, and a hand grabbed her head. It shoved her down until her lips were touching the base of his cock. The stag's hips began to rock gently, in time with the throbbing of his cock. It was only a matter of time before a rush of cum sprayed down her throat. She swallowed it thirstily without thinking, but as it dawned on her what she'd done, she felt queasy.
After Hazel extracted herself, she had to lick up strings of cum that clung from his cock to her lips. Evie's brother was splayed out on the couch, panting softly, and still a little wide-eyed. Hazel dragged her sleeve across her mouth. "Thanks," she said quietly. Just as she was turning to leave, something bubbled up her throat and she let out an unexpected burp. She heard the stag snicker behind her back, but didn't turn around. Cheeks blazing hot, she stomped out of the house, more mad at herself than anything else.
She couldn't stop licking her lips.
12 Hazel, Wednesday afternoon
School the next day was awful. Between her shivering fits and the constant itch that burrowed into her scalp and the never-ending feeling of emptiness inside her mouth, Hazel couldn't focus on her classes at all. At least she didn't have to participate much; she could just slink into the back and disappear.
Jordan wasn't there. No surprise, she had only come to school once that week. Neither was Evie or Zoey, though, and she was starting to get worried. Best-case scenario, they stayed home sick. She didn't want to think about the worst-case scenario. By the time lunch came around, she decided she needed to check on them, starting with Zoey.
At cafeteria right now. Where are you?
Hazel stuck her hand into the bin of mayonnaise packets and grabbed out a handful to take to the table, where she sat alone. While she waited for Zoey to text her back, she tore open the packets one by one and squirted them onto her tongue. Anything to satisfy the urge that seemed more like an instinct at that point. At least straight mayo wasn't as gross as actual cum.
Just moved into a new place. You should come over
Hazel had a bevy of questions. For instance, how did she find a place if she didn't even have a job? Also, why was she moving out of her house? (Hazel had an idea of why, but she didn't want to face that just yet.) In the end, she just asked one question.
What's the address? I'll come after school
Hazel climbed down the short flight of concrete steps tucked into an alley and knocked on the door set into the wall. Zoey hadn't given her an apartment number, just the number of the building and directions to come around back and knock. Hazel wondered if her college apartment in the fall was going to be like this.
That was contingent on still being smart enough to go to college.
Judging by the dim sound of music coming from behind the door, this was the right apartment. Hazel knocked harder, in case Zoey hadn't heard the first time.
The door jerked open, and behind it was Zoey, her chest stuffed into one of her tank tops. Her tits pulled the fabric taut and bulged out in every direction it could. The only other bit of clothing she had on were a pair of purple panties. A cigarette hung off her lip. Her head was cocked to one side, like her long mane of hair was weighing down her head.
"Hey! Come on in," Zoey said, grabbing Hazel by the arm and dragging her through the door. Hazel tried to not breathe in the smoke, but it permeated the air. It was fresher and warmer than the smell that had lingered in Evie's room.
Zoey's new place was sparsely decorated, a half-furnished basement where a few beds of varying complexity had been shoved, along with a small kitchen area in one corner and a spare bathroom underneath the stairs to the first floor. "Check it out. Grunge as fuck, right?" she said, a broad grin on her muzzle.
While Zoey flopped back onto a couch that had been patched with tape in a few spots, Hazel stood nearby, but behind her slightly, so that she wouldn't be right in the path of her smoke.
"So how'd you get this place?" she asked.
Zoey shifted in her seat, sitting up and splaying her arms along the back of the sofa. "So this lion guy was knocking me up last night—"
"Wait, are you serious?" Hazel said.
Zoey shot her an annoyed look over the back of the sofa. "About what?"
"Getting knocked up."
Zoey grinned and stretched out. Her paw rubbed over her black stomach fur. "Hell yeah I'm serious. He bred me like ten times last night. I'd better fucking be knocked up."
Hazel leaned against the back of the couch, her brow knotted in concern. "What about all that stuff about being independent and not wanting to get tied down?"
Zoey snorted. "What, you're going to tell me I can't fucking get pregnant? I do what I want, that's what being independent means. If I want to get knocked up like a breeder bitch then I'm gonna do it, and fuck you if you want to stop me."
Hazel didn't have the perspective or the willpower to argue the point. With the smoke in the air, she felt horny and hazy and vulnerable, but she couldn't just leave Zoey here. She had to try to figure this all out. The responsibility to solve this mess was all hers, now that Zoey and Evie were out of commission too.
As she was figuring out what to say, the door upstairs swung open and heavy thumps came down the staircase. The vixen looked up and felt a little shiver run through her tail as a thick-muscled, shaggy-maned lion rounded the last step. His broad chest was squeezed into a tank top, and his jeans couldn't hide the weighty bulge trailing down his crotch.
Hazel's jaw had fallen slack and little sparks danced in front of her eyes. She couldn't. Don't. Don't even think about it.
"Oh yeah, this is Jason," Zoey said. "He's the one who knocked me up," she added, in a whisper.
Jason grunted and unbuttoned his jeans. The sheer pressure packed inside them pushed the zipper down. The base of his cock bulged out of the gap. "I need my dick sucked," he told Zoey.
Hazel stiffened and her tail bushed up. He had the sort of voice that she'd love to hear groaning or growling or calling her a thirsty slut. She swallowed and bit her tongue, trying to keep her thoughts clear of the smoky haze. She expected Zoey to tell him to fuck off, or to taunt him, or something, but the panthress's face lit up and she dropped to her knees in front of him.
As shocking as it was, watching Zoey shove her mouth onto some guy's dick, the fact that Hazel herself had gone down on a guy the day before softened the blow.
"Zoey!" Hazel hissed. Her arms were folded underneath her chest, claws sinking anxiously into her arms. "You're...just doing what a man tells you. How the hell is this being 'independent' when you're just some guy's personal slut?"
Zoey's head bobbed back and forth steadily. Her eyes flicked up from Jason's crotch to Hazel's face. She stuck out a fist, flipped Hazel the bird, then sunk back down over his shaft again.
Hazel would have said something, but she could hear the soft slurping from Zoey's lips. She could see the way their bodies both clenched slightly with each motion of Zoey's mouth. Hazel wiped a bit of the drool from her lips and tried to focus. She really did. But the low rumble from the lion's chest and the smell of his scent mingling with the overbearing musk of Zoey's smoke was too much for one vixen.
Zoey was suddenly shoved to the side. The cock popped right out of her mouth. She fell over onto the floor, and got back up on her knees with an angry snarl, ready for a catfight. Except Hazel wasn't looming sternly over her. She was on the floor in front of Jason, facing away from him but with her spine arched back so far that her head could reach his cock, upside-down.
Hazel shoved the shaft between her jaws. Its shape bumped against her palate and teeth and popped into her throat...then just kept going. It was deeper than she'd had practice with, but that just got her even more excited. Her eyes rolled back into their sockets, eyelids fluttering, ears folded back.
Her throat bulged around the lion's cock. Curled back as she was, he could see its shape traced through her soft white neck fur. As she bobbed up and down, the tip slid back and forth, pulling her throat taut enough that her muscles ached. Her lips formed a tight seal while she slurped at his shaft. Her nose, as it bobbed forward, bumped against his balls. The heavy orbs swung underneath him, covered in coarse, dark, mane-fur and smelling so intensely of male that Hazel couldn't have pulled away if she wanted.
Jason bared his fangs and clasped one of his paws around her neck to hold her steady. He bucked his hips against her mouth, digging deep into her throat while she took it like a pro.
Zoey sat off to the side, arms folded under her chest, pouting with a jealous look in her eyes.
The lion's cock spearing into Hazel's throat didn't make her so much as sputter. She would have been embarrassed but the musk filling her nose had switched off parts of her mind, leaving her only able in the moment to think about sucking harder, faster, and better. She squeezed her jaw around the lion's cock. One arm wrapped around his waist, keeping her from falling over. Her other hand dove down between her thighs, sliding under her sweat pants and squeezing her fingers between her folds.
Jason looked up at Zoey and grinned. "Your friend's a slut,"
The panthress sneered back at him. "Yeah. Real whore."
Hazel felt his cock throbbing. Her tongue slurped along the underside of his shaft. Her steady bobbing pulled her cheeks tight and her panties were damp from her fervent fingering. With a loud snarl from the lion above her, the cock speared into her throat, pushing the hilt up against her lips. Jerking and thrusting, Jason let a wave of thick cum flow down her throat. Then another, and another, while she slurped greedily. At last, her grip slipped, and she flopped down onto the floor at his feet.
Her chest heaved, her eyes spun, and her pussy throbbed, but Hazel slowly came back to her senses. Then a stray touch of her mound made her clench. Her legs squeezed together. Her fingers curled and sent her over the edge into a whining, thrashing orgasm. Her tail beat against the floor, her head lolled back, and her whole body tightened. When it was over, she pushed herself up onto her palms. Gasping for air, she found a thick wet patch soaking through her crotch of her pants and running down the left leg.
Hazel ground her forehead against her palms. Her mind felt numb. With a small shudder, she imagined that the wetness between her legs had come straight from her head, like it was Trigonometry and French that were trickling down her pants. No...no, she was just paranoid after talking to Evie. Right? She tried to remember how to conjugate verbs, but between the lion's lingering scent in her nose and the cigarette smoke, her thoughts were a mess.
"I need to go," Hazel said, still out of breath.
Zoey was already on her knees in front of Jason's crotch, gripping the base of his shaft with her paw. "You know where to find me once you're done being a fucking hypocrite," she said, then stuffed her maw around his shaft.
Hazel watched, her mouth watering and her jaw falling open. "Gllk," she groaned. But she forced herself up to her feet. Ignoring the chill of her soaked pants against her fur, she limped out the door. The air in the stairwell was fresh and cool compared to Zoey's apartment, and Hazel took big, gasping breaths to cool her thoughts.
Her blush only made her red fur redder. What had she just done? And her pants...she'd have to get new ones. She couldn't walk home like this.
She hoped Evie was doing better than she was.
13 Evie, Wednesday evening
Evie hadn't noticed last time that the guy at the convenience store was a hyena. But this time, all she could think about was his long snout and big fangs and she bet if she got down behind the counter she'd be able to smell his musk. Maybe he could grab her by the hair and pull her against his crotch and call her a dumb little doe.
"Can I help you?" he asked, itching at his mane.
Evie moved her weight from one hoof to another, letting her breasts shift behind her tied-off shirt. They threatening to slip free at any moment. He didn't even seem to recognize her. Her tail wiggled as she pressed her thighs together.
"Um...cigarettes?" she asked, blinking.
"Yeah, we've got cigarettes." He gestured at the display over his shoulder. "What kind?"
Evie bit her lip. She almost wanted him to tell her what to smoke, to tell her that he was going to be making all the decisions. A shiver ran down her spine and she tried to remind herself that she was actually smart. The cigarettes were just making her think she was dumb. Right?
"They, uh...come in a box, about this big," she said, gesturing with her fingers. "I think it's...green?"
The hyena sighed and turned around, starting to hunt across the rows of the display. Evie's ears perked up and she leaned forward, pointing eagerly. "That one! The Loose and Thingies."
He grabbed the pack and brought it back to the register. "Fifteen ninety nine," he said.
Evie stared at him like he'd said the price in Chinese, then dug a wrinkled twenty out of the pocket of her tiny denim cutoffs. "Is that enough?" she asked.
The hyena didn't say anything, he just took the bill, stuck it into the register, and passed her the change. Evie lingered in front of him, wedging the bills into her pocket and the pack of cigarettes between her breasts. She waited for him to make a move. He didn't even try to grope her, and she'd been pushing her chest in his direction the whole time.
"Thanks!" she said, then turned and made a little hoof-tip strut back to the door, letting her ass swing back and forth. Maybe she'd at least get a wolf whistle. As the door slid shut behind her, she huffed softly. Nothing. How was she supposed to think properly when her whole body was tuned for sex and no one was fucking her?
Evie paused and closed her eyes. Hazel had told her to try hiking or something. Maybe what she needed was fresh air. Maybe she needed to remind herself of what her life was supposed to be like. Maybe then she'd be able to kick this habit and not need to get fucked just to feel normal. With her cigarettes and lighter stowed just in case of emergency, she set out for the trailhead just a short walk down the road. Hiking always helped her think. Maybe it'd help her think of something that wasn't getting knotted.
The sun was coming in golden through the trees as it dipped down toward the hills. Evie's hooves crunched against the leaves as she picked her way along the trail. Hiking seemed so much harder now than it had been before. Panting softly, she drifted down to sit on top of a thick stump.
Her back was sore from supporting the heavy breasts jutting from her chest, and her nipples were so tender that they were almost chafing against her shirt. All the bouncing and jostling of climbing had shaken her ass harder than a night out at the club.
And the worst part was, she was shivering. Not from the cold; she felt just fine, even in her cut-off, tied-up, skimpy outfit. It was the stupid cigarettes she'd promised not to smoke. She needed more, but she'd promised Hazel that she'd stop. Licking her lips, she dug the pack out from between her breasts and tugged off the wrapper. She could just smell one. Refresh the scent in her mind, and then put the pack away. She dragged one of the cigarettes out and passed it beneath her nose. Her knees curled toward her chest and her mouth hung open.
Numbly, her hand groped for the lighter in her pocket. Her eyes glazed over as she pressed the cigarette to her lips. She lifted the lighter to the tip and clicked until a small flame poured out against the cigarette. Her ears drooped lazily.
Her lungs drew in the smoke. It swirled down into her, hot and dry and clinging, and her body began to creak. She let out a small grunt, exhaled, and took another drag. Her thighs slid against the rough surface of the stump. It felt as if an invisible hand had taken hold of her hips and was stretching them wider. Her tendons crackled as they were pulled and her bones groaned under the force. As her hips thickened, they framed her swollen mound, hidden only by a layer of denim.
With a small whimper, she slid her hand under her shorts. Her cigarette was nearly out by then, so she flicked the butt aside carelessly and tugged another from the pack. She savored the first crisp puff from a freshly-lit cigarette while her free hand kneaded between her thighs.
The sheer pressure of her thickening hips clicked the zipper on her shorts down three notches. She didn't even stop smoking to investigate the way her hip bones were creaking outward. She ground her palm against her crotch, leaning back slowly. Her hooves dangled down into the grass and leaves at the base of the stump. Her fingers rubbed through her shorts while she stared vacantly up at the leaves.
Evie felt a little bad that she was tossing the cigarettes away. Wasn't that...some sort of...hiking rule? It was right at the tip of her brain, but she couldn't remember. And then a squeak slipped from her mouth, a shiver ran down her spine, and her juices dampened the crotch of her shorts.
What had she been thinking about? She tried to remember as she flicked another cigarette butt into the brush.
The cigarettes began to blur together. She was fast enough on the draw that she could light up a new one before she had to exhale the last lungful of smoke from the one before. She rubbed herself with her free hand, building up to orgasms that shuddered through her and left her head feeling lighter.
The notion that she should stop melted into slick juices running down her thighs. So did her worries about Hazel, or what her family might think, or school, or anything but smoking and fucking.
She had lost count of how many times she'd cummed out her thoughts. It was in the afterglow of an orgasm, with her brain feeling blissfully empty of worries, that something strange happened.
She brought her cigarette to her lips, and her legs suddenly kicked out. Her heart rate spiked. A rush of adrenaline perked her ears and dilated her pupils. She rolled onto her side and clutched the stump she was laying on. Confused, she opened her mouth and closed her lips around the cigarette to take a deep drag.
Her body flinched again. She tipped back onto her back and wriggled against the wood. Her body was trying to tell her something; some survival instinct kicking in. Anxious and eager to soothe her nerves, she exhaled and sucked down another breath of smoke.
Her head cocked to one side and her hooves curled. Her left leg tensed, bent at the knee. A groan squeezed out through her nostrils. Her brain tried to tell her something was wrong, but every fresh drag diluted the signal. She sucked in the smoke and let it steep in her chest.
A shudder ran across her shoulders. Evie shoved her fingers between her legs, pushing the zipper on her shorts the rest of the way open. Her thick hoof-fingers rubbed over her folds, plunging into her pussy and drawing back out. One more drag. She tipped her head back and pulled down the smoke.
Her legs quivered. Her pussy clenched. The last bit of self-preservation left squirted out between her fingers. She slumped against the tree stump, eyes still dilated, big and black and dumb.
The leaves were dark and the sky above was gently purple. Evie was sprawled back against the tree stump, leaning to one side. A cigarette glowed between her lips. She barely moved; her chest rose and fell, and her nostrils flared and puffed out twin plumes of smoke. One leg was cocked up, her hoof planted on the stump, while the other dangled off into the grass. With each breath, her breasts squeezed against the small knot that kept her shirt wrapped around her chest.
Half-dreaming, she was imagining a rough, burly mountain lion, holding her down by the throat and hips while he split her pussy open.
A voice cut through her dream. "Hey. Are you okay?"
Evie flinched as she snapped back to reality. Standing above her and peering down at her was a brown-furred wolf in a warm shirt and hiking shorts. Further away, she could see two more wolves: one with a gray coat, arms crossed, looking on warily, and a shaggy, white-furred one who was re-lacing his hiking boots.
Pushing her palms against the stump, Evie slowly sat up. A leaf or two clung to her long hair and her eyes were wide, like she was confused. She reached out for something to hold onto and grabbed the chest of the brown wolf's shirt.
The gray wolf huffed. "I bet she's drunk or something. Look at all this trash." He kicked at the spent cigarettes littered around the stump.
"Hey, it's okay," Brown said. "Do you need us to take you home?"
Evie only came up to the wolf's chest, so she had to tip her head up to meet his gaze. Her eyes were big and blank, like he was looking into the face of a wild animal. She plucked the cigarette from between her lips, blew a breath of smoke toward his face, and then began to tug at the buttons on his shirt.
"Woah, calm down," Brown said, trying to push Evie back. But he was being gentle, and Evie wasn't. She didn't undo the buttons; she tugged at his shirt until they either popped open, or snapped off entirely. Her ears twitched. She could hear the wolf's breathing deepen. With his shirt half-open, she paused, taking in a deep drag and blowing it back out.
Brown winced and stumbled away from the cloud, until his back bumped up against a tree. He blinked, trying to make his eyes focus. With each deep breath he took, his chest pushed out thicker and broader, parting his shirt bit by bit. Evie was in front of him in a moment, puffing a fresh cloud of smoke into the air and tugging at his shirt again.
The wolf's eyelids fluttered. His teeth clenched and he wedged his claws against the bark behind him. The scent of the smoke rolled into his nose, down through his chest, and pooled between his legs. A grunt left his throat and his voice cracked. The front of his hiking shorts bulged outward.
Evie didn't say a thing. She dropped down to her knees, following the warm, damp scent rising up into the air. His belt and buckle might have been a Rubik's cube for all she knew. She just started to tug and pull, dragging his shorts down and squashing her chest against his thighs in the process. With his underwear now exposed, she grabbed at the elastic. A thick, pointed shaft flopped free over her fingers, with a heavy, tightly-packed pair of balls hanging behind it.
"Hey!" Gray shouted from the other side of the stump.
White's eyes darted between the doe's chest and her ass. "Dude," he said under his breath.
Brown kept shaking his head, like he was struggling to fight off strange thoughts. His chest was firmer, shoulders broader, and fangs a little bit thicker. Small huffs and grunts squeezed through his nose as he tried to think clearly. Then Evie stood back up, and surrounded him in another cloud of smoke. His clenched jaw relaxed and his tongue flopped between his fangs. A wave of tightness ran down his front, rippling along his stomach and burrowing into his crotch.
One hand on the big wolf's shoulder, Evie threw her legs around him. By squeezing with her thighs, she lifted herself off the ground, and shoved her crotch against his. Her shorts were left unzipped, exposing part of her mound as she ground against him. She squeezed her body anxiously against his, until he was able to feel her trembling against him. She sucked on her cigarette and blew it out against Brown's chest. The smoke wafted up and seeped into his nose.
"Get off him!" Gray barked, grabbing Evie by the shoulder. Brown growled and smacked Gray's paw away. Then, with a heave of his arms, he pulled Evie up higher, high enough to position his cock against her pussy. Pulling her down against him, his cock speared straight into her, and Evie let out an involuntary cry. Her legs kicked out beneath her; the jolt of pain had triggered her instinct to run. But her hooves kicked uselessly at the air, and once the second thrust came, she stopped trying to flee. Falling back against Brown's chest, she bucked and twisted her body. Her hips rocked against him with all the energy of a skittish doe.
Evie's steady puffing had formed a misty fog around her and Brown, and now Gray was starting to breathe it in. "What are you doing?" Gray asked, frowning at the brown wolf. "You're...fucking this...random doe," he said, as his breaths grew deeper.
"I'm mating this stupid prey," Brown growled. His voice was rougher and more prickly now, and it made Evie's tail quiver.
"She's..." Gray trailed off. His hand went to the front of his shirt, picking at the buttons that were now pulled tight and constricting across his chest. "She does look like dumb prey," he said, starting to pant. He popped his shirt open, letting his lighter underbelly fur spill out. His tongue lapped at his fangs, like he knew instinctively they were growing but his conscious mind was still unaware. A growl rolled up into his chest as his biceps squeezed against his flannel sleeves.
"She's got an ass," Brown said, gripping one of Evie's cheeks and pulling it to the side, offering the other wolf a share of her.
Even in the midst of her bouncing and bucking, Evie was smoking like a professional. Little bits of ash tumbled into Brown's fur while the thick smoke curled around the three of them.
Evie glanced over her shoulder, cigarette between her lips. Gray was panting. Drool dripped from his tongue as he pushed his shorts down. His cock sprung free as he pushed down his underwear. It dangled heavily in the air as he approached her. All of a sudden, two more paws grabbed her, and a new shaft spread her open, squeezing into her beneath her tail. She gasped and squirmed and bucked until she was sandwiched between two powerful canine bodies.
"Hey, doe," Gray growled, pumping quickly against her. He grabbed her tail and pulled until she squeaked. "Is your tail white cause of all the wolf cum?"
Evie's pussy stretched around Brown's cock. Her nose sunk into his chest, buried in the thick chest fur and inhaling his musk like it was cigarette smoke. The more of the pungent air Brown breathed in, the thicker his musk, the meatier his muscles, and the more vicious his grin.
"Hey, dudes, maybe we should, uh," White said, stepping closer. As he entered the haze that hung around them, he squinted and began to sniff at the air like he was trying to find the source of a smell. "Maybe we should...stop..." he muttered, while his hand slipped down to his belt to relieve some of the pressure on his swelling balls.
"What, you want a piece?" Brown asked. His paws rested on Evie's breasts, dragging his claws against her tender skin.
"She's got more holes," Grey said. Then, together, the wolves grabbed Evie and turned her to the side, so that she hung in the air, parallel to the ground. One of them had a hand around her ankle, holding one leg high in the air. She reached for the ground to prop herself up, but found a white-furred crotch shoved into her face, strong with canine musk. Her jaw fell open and a little string of saliva dripped onto the ground before White's stiff cock rammed between her flat teeth.
Evie got to feel all the little shudders as the wolves basked in the smoke. Occasionally, she'd feel one tense before his cock throbbed to an even tighter size, or a sudden growl grip another as his voice deepened, or the heavy slap of their balls as they grew bigger and more insistently potent.
For being the last to start breathing in the smoke, White was catching up well with the others. His body was firm and rugged and very thick-furred already. His claws combed through her hair, dug in against her scalp, and tugged her head forward. His shaft forced its way down her throat. "Didn't your mom tell you not to play with wolves?" White growled.
As Evie sputtered around White's cock, a wild snicker passed through the trio of wolves. She was still being speared from both ends by Brown and Gray, and the more eager they got, the more they clawed and grabbed and groped at her.
The two wolves at her waist thrust out of sync, pulling and pushing her, forcing her to stretch around both their thick cocks. The wolf with his cock in her mouth pounded away at the front of her face. Her nose was numb from the constant barrage of his hips. Her body rocked and jostled against the three hungry wolves. Her breasts hung toward the ground, swaying with the rest of her body.
In the midst of being battered from all sides, a thick bulge jammed up against Evie's tailhole. Her hooves kicked and her arms grasped for the ground, but she couldn't wriggle herself away, not with the wolves holding her. Panic flickered across her dim eyes for a moment.
Gray grinned. "Don't fuck wolves if you can't take the knot."
With her pinned between the wolves, Brown had no trouble forcing his shaft up into her. She felt the strain, the stretch, and then the firm pop as he wedged himself inside her pussy. His knot was so tight it seemed like she might burst open. White's claws sunk deep into her hair and he jammed her head down against his cock until her smooth teeth slipped around the fat bulge.
"Fucking...dumbass...prey," slipped between Brown's fangs. He screwed his eyes shut and curled his back. With a jab of his hips, his cock speared up into Evie's body. His seed started to spill, coming out in thick bursts that flooded up into her and made her feel deeply warm and swollen.
With his companion now jerking instinctively, Gray found it hard to hold back. He sunk his claws into Evie's leg. A deep rumble rose out of his chest and through his wrinkled snout. With a sharp bark, his body flexed forward. His cum shot up into Evie's tailhole, making her squirm and wriggle. Each pulse filled her tighter, plugged up by Gray's knot.
White was the last to cum. He panted eagerly and ground Evie's dark snout against his crotch. When he finally hit his climax, Evie's throat had to open to keep from choking on the steady flow of seed.
Everything after was a haze. She was only dimly aware of her own body. Her pussy was thick and swollen, and she was sure she'd orgasmed a few times, though she couldn't recall when. Her eyes were filled with nothing but white--because she was still pinned up against the white wolf's stomach. The wolves were talking, but it sounded like buzzing over her head.
After a few minutes, Gray was able to slide his knot free, followed by White and Brown. Evie's ass and pussy were left with a tingling, vacant sensation that numbed her knees. She tumbled onto the forest floor and laid there, panting against the leaves.
The next thing she knew, she was heaved up and draped over a thick shoulder. Her head hung down against Brown's torso, while her ass stuck up into the air, shorts tugged sloppily around her thighs. Her crotch dripped with wolf seed. Exhausted and numb, she swayed against the wolf's strong body, letting him carry her along the trail without protest.
Finally, they reached the trailhead. The wolves' car was still there, the only one parked in the small lot. After some quick growling among them, and an agreement that they didn't need some furious brute of a stag busting down their door in search of his girlfriend, they decided to leave Evie there.
Evie waved at the wolves as they pulled out, then paused to hike up her shorts and dig her lighter from her pocket. The smoke made her empty mind float, and sent a pleasant hum running through her bones. Her nipples were stiff against her tied-off top, and her shorts no longer zipped up in front. Stupid prey, she thought, happily, as she began to instinctively retrace her steps toward home. Dumb doe.
14 Hazel, Thursday morning
Hazel's alarm blared at her as she shucked off her sheets. The sound cut straight into her skull and made her head throb, though it still throbbed once she'd clicked the alarm off. She almost made it to the door before she realized she still had the equine dildo she'd been playing with the night before shoved down her throat. A little quiver ran down her spine as she tugged it free and dropped it onto the floor.
Every blink made her feel the bags under her eyes. Even the shower couldn't stop her from quivering. She hadn't breathed in smoke, even secondhand, since yesterday afternoon. Drying off her fur and her thick mane of hair after the shower left her a shivering mess. She sat on her bed under a blanket until she felt warm enough to try putting on some of her new clothes.
Her tank top held snug across her bust, but the neckline dipped low enough to offer a glimpse of the purple bra she was wearing underneath. Her gray denim leggings hugged every curve of her hips and ass, and stretched thin enough that she felt like she was constantly on display.
Hazel curled her tail around her waist and scratched at the plush fur. She was going to go to school, have a normal day, and break this habit. Her eyes darted to her bedside stand. She didn't need 'insurance', she told herself.
But before she grabbed her bag to leave, she swiped her last stash of Loose and Easy's from the drawer and stuffed them in her pocket.
As Hazel climbed off the bus and headed into school, she kept her eyes on the floor. She could still feel the gazes drawn her way, staring at her chest in its snug top or her ass swishing behind her, despite the best efforts of her tail to cover herself. By the time she got to her locker, she was panting and her cheeks were warm. She stared at her books for a few moments, before remembering which classes she had and grabbing out the ones she'd need.
Not that she did any reading in class. As soon as her eyes hit the page, they glazed over. Her hand grazed over her crotch, tugging at the stretchy denim and her thong panties underneath. It was the fault of these stupid new clothes, riding up against her cameltoe.
In the next class, her cravings were even worse, to the point that she flopped down against the desk. She leaned her cheek against her arm and squashed her breasts against the desktop like a pair of heavy pillows. "I'm not a slut," she mouthed to herself, clenching each time a pang of need rolled between her legs. She still itched and she was still cold and she could feel the outline of the pack in her pocket, just begging to be smoked.
"Hazel, could you tell us?" the teacher asked.
She hadn't been listening. In shock, Hazel's head shot up and she blurted out, "I'm not a slut!"
The class was quiet. Hazel mouthed wordlessly, then said, "I'm...sorry, I don't...I don't know."
The teacher gave her a fiercely stern look, then tried to move on, but the tension still hung in the air. Half the class was still staring. She buried her face in her arms and tried to ignore her pussy's insistent ache.
At the next break between periods, Hazel made a beeline for the basement bathroom. It was out of the way and rarely used. Shoving the door shut behind her, she walked over to the sink and began to scrub cold water into her face.
Planting her hands on either side of the sink, she looked her reflection in the eye. "You don't want to suck cock," she said.
Her pussy twinged and she bent one knee. The throbbing inside of her said otherwise.
"You're not some kind of c-cock sucker," she said. Her claws dug into the white porcelain sink. "Some kind of dumb slut who just wants a dick in her mouth." Her tail flagged up behind her, swishing through the air. Her eyelids fluttered. One hand left the sink to creep toward her pocket. "You're a s-smart...woman. You don't need to suck cock. Big, hard ones that make you strain..."
The bathroom door swung shut. Hazel gasped. Her ears snapped up and she wheeled around to look at the gray-furred fox who'd sat in the seat in front of hers in her last class. Evie was pretty sure he was on the senior track team. She would have said something, but her throat had already loosened and her jaw was slack and her eyes had fixed on his crotch.
"Hey," he said, scratching his head. He had a coy, but confident grin. "After what happened in class, I thought you might want some...help, y'know?"
Hazel gulped down her oral instinct and shoved her hand into her pocket, then dragged out a cigarette. She thrust it toward the fox. "Smoke this."
"What?" he asked.
"Smoke it and I'll suck your dick." Hazel's eyes were wide and sharp and stared straight into his.
He took the cigarette from her fingers. "Uh, sure," he said. Hazel dug out her lighter and lit the tip for him. After he pressed it to his lips and took a light puff, Hazel began to breathe like she'd just run a marathon. Even second-hand, the smoke was making its way up into her brain and satisfied that shivering, desperate craving.
The young male let out an 'oof' as Hazel shoved him up against the door. She was down on her knees immediately. Her eyes glazed over as she tore open his pants and his boxers. Her pants brushed against his crotch until she spread her mouth and sucked his shaft between her lips.
The smoke was slowly suffusing the air with its smell, easing her jitters and headache like medicine. The more she breathed in, the deeper her breaths got, filtered through the crotch fur her nose was jammed up against. Her claws sunk into his thighs and her head bobbed back and forth. Her shame still burned somewhere in her chest, but for the moment it was buried under a mountain of desperate desire.
As the gray fox's chest rose, something shifted. A growl rumbled down through his body, accompanied by a swell inside of Hazel's mouth. The veins along his cock twitched and bulged, and then the flesh itself swelled, pushing its pointed tip deeper toward her throat and squeezing her jaw just a little wider.
Hazel pulled herself away from his shaft. It hung stiff in front of her, connected to her mouth by a trail of drool. "Keep smoking," she said, then rammed herself back down over him.
"Is this some kinda...fetish thing?" he asked. But her mouth was already occupied again, so he took a deep drag from the cigarette. As a shudder ran through him, he pressed his head against the door and clenched his muscles.
Hazel's eyes were open, but she couldn't see anything. Smell and taste and touch had taken over, letting her know just how tight his swelling cock was against her tongue, and how strong the musk in his pubic fur was, and the moment that he began to drizzle precum down the back of her throat.
Wordless noises slipped from her snout. The gray fox's eyes had gone unfocused too. He stared up at the ceiling, puffing thick clouds of smoke from his mouth and making guttural groans as his body creaked and swelled.
Hazel's brain swirled in a cloud of smoke. She was wet enough that her fluids had soaked through her leggings and were dripping onto the ground. The male fox's balls churned. His cock swelled again: eight full inches crammed down her throat, not counting the knot. Maybe she was a slut for oral. His cock pulsed and she clenched. Another drop of her juices dripped onto the floor. Just a cock-sucking, attention-loving vixen. Her tail rolled and flicked through the air behind her. Sparing a hand from his thighs, she shoved it underneath her leggings and started fingering herself violently.
Then she came, and something went pop between her ears. She heard it, just as clearly as she could hear the toes of her shoes squeaking against the floor. Something warm rolled down from her head, along her spine, between her hips, and came out in a wet splash against her fingers. Dazed and lightheaded, she almost forgot the cock in her mouth. Her eyes focused on her fingers, wet with her juices, connected by thick strings of fluid. You couldn't cum your brains out...right?
A hand gripped the back of her head and pulled her forward, popping her jaw roughly around a thick knot. The pulsing shaft reached a peak, and then erupted. Her throat loosened to suck down the load, swallowing three, four, five times to get it all down. With another pop, she pulled her jaw off of his knot and let all ten inches of fox dick flop out of her mouth.
"I need to suck your cock again," Hazel said, grasping his shaft and starting to rub it.
The gray fox let out a groan between his teeth. His voice was a little rougher; Hazel liked it. "Hey, c'mon, I need a break," he said.
Hazel whined, her ears folded back against her head. Her tongue darted across her lips. She swallowed, trying to savor the aftertaste. Her breaths came in small huffs and her eyes were wide and shallow.
"Do you have friends?" she asked.
While the gray fox headed off to let his friends know about Hazel, Hazel climbed up to her feet and leaned against the bathroom sink. A little streamer of cum dangled from her lip, which she lapped up immediately.
"You're Hazel," she told herself.
Her head was still spinning, still empty. She wanted to make sure she wasn't losing it.
"You're going to college in a few months."
Her hand slipped back to grab her pack of cigarettes and her lighter. It had been nearly a minute since she'd inhaled fresh smoke. She tapped the ash into the sink and blew the smoke against the mirror. It sent a warm shimmer down to her pussy and made her tail swish back and forth.
"You're a cocksucking slut."
Her thighs clenched. Whether that was true, it made her shiver and want to get down on her knees. She deepthroated the next drag from her cigarette.
"Blowjob cunt!" she barked at her reflection.
Her still-damp fingers slipped back underneath her leggings while she stared, bent over and glassy-eyed, into the mirror. Her breasts hung below her, nearly pushed up against the edge of the sink.
"I--I bet you sucked your way through school!" she gasped.
Hazel slumped to one side, clinging to the sink with one arm, fingering herself with the other, and digging her claws into the soles of her shoes. Her eyelids fluttered and her mouth hung open, panting. Her tail curled into the air and she yowled out in pleasure. Another pop came from between her ears. The warmth flowed through her again and splashed out between her fingers.
Panting in the afterglow, she looked at the fluids running down her fingers and bit her lip. Hazel had the feeling that she shouldn't have done that.
15 Hazel, three weeks later
Hazel's head thunked gently against the underside of the desk. Her eyes were open but unfocused, and her hands rested on her history teacher's thighs. An equine shaft dug against her throat with each bob of her head. First came the snort from above the desk, the shuffle of hooves, then a thick, throbbing blast down her throat.
Hazel stayed rooted to that cock until the last spurt, then slipped free. She sat underneath the desk, jaw slack. A string of cum hung between her lip and the head of the cock. After nearly a minute of starry-eyed silence, she shook her head, blinked, and climbed out from under the desk.
Her tank top, printed with a pink kiss-mark across the front, clung to her breasts and little else. Her denim leggings cupped her body from the waist down. She looked at the brown Clydesdale expectantly, but her brain was still a little too cock-dazed to speak.
"Right, I'll...review your test. I may have missed some points," he said, deliberately.
Hazel smiled. She was pretty sure that's what she wanted to get out of blowing him. She wouldn't have gone for any of her teachers on their own, but she did want to keep her grades up. "Thanks!" she remembered to say as she turned to leave. She still had time to catch the late bus back to Zoey's apartment--where the four of them had ended up, for one reason or another.
As she left the classroom, she nearly ran into the front of a football jersey. Looking up, Hazel saw the grinning stripes of a tiger's face, flanked by those of his two friends: an ox and an alligator.
"Hey, it's the blowjob queen," the tiger said. He glanced over his shoulder at the ox. "Check this out."
Hazel was about to ask them to move, when the tiger reached out and stuck two fingers into her mouth. Her jaw naturally swung open to accept them, and her mouth closed neatly around them. With a slow back-and-forth, Hazel began to slide her lips along his fingers. Even if she knew what was going on, she wouldn't have been able to stop herself.
"Watch her brain go pop," the tiger said.
Hazel's throat loosened. With each bob of her head, her lips slipped further down the tiger's fingers. She fought to keep her eyes focused, but couldn't. Her expression fell slack, her eyes empty. She sucked on the tiger's fingers like they were the most important thing in the world.
The tiger said, "Good slut."
Hazel didn't even blink. A faint, happy whine left her nose.
"You want some more dick to suck, don't you?" he asked.
She nodded dimly.
"Follow me," the tiger said. His fingers began to leave her mouth. Hazel stumbled forward, but she couldn't keep him from pulling his fingers away. He wiped them on her tank top, then dragged her off toward the gym.
In minutes, she was kneeling on the locker room floor, throat-deep around the husky's cock. Her eyes were half-closed. She rocked back and forth, then pulled her lips free with a soft pop and turned to her left, where the tiger's shaft was waiting. All the while, one of her free hands stroked along the ox's cock, stiff and slick with her drool already.
A large paw gripped her thick hair tie, using her ponytail like a handle. The tiger pulled her back, then shoved her head down against his cock. His hips ground against her snout. His musk filled her nose and mingling with the scent of the other two males. Hazel was going to be brainless for a while.
15 Alexis, three months later
The gazelle girl sat on the edge of the couch in Zoey's apartment, arms folded and legs crossed. She wore a college tank top over her sleek frame, and eyed the webcam clipped onto the top corner of the TV. Hazel leaned down to make sure that the red light was on, then smiled back at the gazelle.
"All right, we're live," Hazel said, brushing back her hair as she stood.
The gazelle kept her eye on Hazel as the vixen walked back to the sofa. "Just FYI, this is pretty weird. I thought you said you guys had cool parties," she said.
"The fucking coolest parties," Zoey said. "This is just some sponsorship shit so we can spend more money on getting wasted."
Zoey came up around the couch, holding a pack of cigarettes and a lighter in one hand. The panthress looked as hard as ever--except around the waist, where it was getting increasingly obvious that her bareback habit was catching up with her. The gazelle looked at Zoey's gently-pregnant belly, then up at her face, then finally at the pack of cigarettes.
The gazelle pursed her lips. "Fine. But there better be guys once we're done with this." She took the cigarettes and lighter from Zoey's hands, then sat up and looked straight into the dark camera lens. "I'm Alexis and this is my first time trying, uh," she stole a look at the pack, "Loose and Easys."
She pulled a cigarette from the pack, held it between her fingers, and clicked the lighter. While she was lighting it, Hazel grabbed the pack and lit up herself, the pitched it over her head at Zoey, who did the same.
Alexis breathed in. The tip of her cigarette glowed. Her shoulders relaxed and the worried wrinkle between her eyebrows softened. She breathed the smoke out and lifted the cigarette from her lips.
"It tastes kind of like dick," she said, as if it was a neutral observation.
Zoey leaned down a little and blew her smoke right into Alexis's face. She squinted and tipped her snout away from Zoey, but Hazel was on the other side, letting out her own lungful of smoke. Alexis's eyes stung, but her nostrils flared, taking in a breath of the musk-laced scent. Her crossed thighs squeezed together.
"Make sure she smokes the whole thing!" Jordan called from her bed, splayed out on her back. The dome of her belly jutted up above the level of her breasts. Zoey could have tried to claim she wasn't pregnant; for Jordan, it was painfully, tightly, squeezingly obvious. Blame being a rabbit.
"Yeah, it's the rules," Hazel added. She leaned forward, hands planted on the cushions. The pose threatened to squeeze her tits right out of her tank top.
Alexis looked the cigarette over, front and back. "Is there like...something in these? It doesn't feel like tobacco." Despite her suspicions, the cigarette found its way to her lips again, and she drew in another deep breath. Her sharp gaze drifted out of focus. Her free hand drifted along her thighs, pulling at her shorts. They were tighter than she remembered them being.
"Who cares? They're good shit, that's what matters," Zoey said. She took a deep drag, then let the smoke all pour out across Alexis's face.
The gazelle slouched. Her free hand moved to her chest, grabbing at the front of her tank top and pulling at it. Her mouth hung open slightly. Her cigarette hand hung in the air as she awkwardly groped herself. "My boobs feel weird," she grumbled.
Zoey pushed Alexis's wrist until her lips met the cigarette again. The tip glowed; she breathed in. She breathed out; the smoke curled in front of her. When she squeezed her chest again, it felt like there was more there, like a gentle weight settling on top of her body. Or really, splaying to the sides while she sunk into the couch.
Her long horns thumped back against the cushions. It seemed like with each drag she took on the cigarette, her chest stood out tighter, stretching the letters across the front of her tank top. She rubbed her thighs again, trying to relieve the squeeze of her shorts. Why was she feeling so heavy?
"Hey, Evie!" Hazel called out, turning her head over her shoulder. "Lexi could use some help."
Alexis grimaced and turned toward Hazel. Her breasts sagged to one side, their weight only held back by the tank top she was wearing. Her hip squeezed against the couch cushion under her. "Hey. I'm not Lexi," she said. "That's a dumb stripper name."
Hazel snickered and pushed Alexis's hand back against her mouth. Her frown dissolved away and she sunk back onto her back. By the time she was breathing out her fresh lungful of smoke, her nipples made small dents in the front of her tank top.
Alexis's leg jerked slightly, rolling open to relieve the pressure on her swollen pussy. Her face was flushed warm and her thoughts were sizzling under her rising sex drive.
And then the doe showed up, looking like a walking wet dream reluctantly squeezed into cutoffs and a flannel shirt. One hand rested on her hip, the other held her cigarette to her lips. One look at her, from her tight clothes to her dark, vacant eyes, and even if it was a stereotype, Alexis couldn't help thinking stupid prey.
"Hi. I like yer horns," Evie said. She put her cigarette to her lip and took in a deep breath, deep enough that her shirt creaked gently. Then she stepped forward, practically tumbled on top of Alexis, and shoved her lips against the gazelle's. Alexis was pinned down against the sofa by the heavier doe.
Alexis's shock bubbled away under the thick cloud of smoke that Evie pushed into her lungs. The doe's tongue brushed against hers. Alexis tipped her head slightly and let herself sink into the kiss. Evie's fingers ranged eagerly across her body, sinking into Alexis's soft, swelling breasts, or trying to peel down the waistband of her shorts.
Even ignoring Evie's smokey kiss, Alexis was deep in the cloud of smoke that Hazel and Zoey were puffing. Every breath she took reeked of sex. Every breath went straight up to her brain. Instinctive pathways switched on full blast and muffled her more sober thoughts.
"Girl on girl? Is she bi?" Zoey asked, pointing down at Alexis's horns--the one part of her that stuck out from underneath the curvy doe.
Hazel blinked, blank-faced for a moment. "Huh? Oh, uh...I dunno. Maybe?" she said. "Guess I forgot to ask."
Alexis quivered and clenched underneath Evie's fingers. One hand had found its way under her panties and was fingering her eagerly, while the other squeezed her heavy tits. Alexis had been slim since she was a kid, so the thick weight of her hips and the and the size of her breasts made her think, Is this how cows feel?
Evie slid down along Alexis's chest until her head was level with her breasts. Evie shoved her tank top up, leaving it hanging above her new rack. While Evie nipped and sucked at the gazelle's tits, Hazel grabbed the girl's cigarette hand and lifted it back to her mouth. Alexis took in a breath, like she was about to protest...then exhaled smoke from her nose. Her thoughts were all sticky, gooey things about big cows and spreading her legs wide open and heavy, swaying tits.
A hand clapped over her mouth, forcibly holding the cigarette to her lips. Alexis's eyes rolled up to look at Hazel, from beneath: the shelf of her chest, her soft lower lip, and her sharp makeup. Then the tip of her cigarette glowed, and her eyes glazed over again.
As she breathed in, the gazelle's body jerked. Her hooves kicked against the cushions and her hips shuddered. Her thighs clenched around Evie's fingers. Her back arched. Then Hazel let go of her mouth, and thick plumes of smoke rose from her nose. Alexis slumped against the couch. Her blank stare pointed in the direction of the webcam, while her mouth hung open. Evie sat up, still straddling the gazelle. Her fingers glistened with Alexis's juices--until she licked them clean.
A mischievous grin crossed Hazel's face. She patted Alexis's cheek and held up the pack of cigarettes. "Hey, Lexi. Want another smoke?"
Alexis blinked vacantly, then lifted the hand with her cigarette in it. It had nearly burnt all the way to the butt. She flicked it in the direction of one of the ashtrays. "Yeah," she said. She took the pack eagerly and lit up a fresh cigarette. Her eyelids drooped slightly as the smoke brushed away her thoughts.
"Is Lexi still a dumb stripper name?" Hazel asked.
Lexi was in the middle of a drag. She waited, letting the smoke swirl in her lungs, then slowly blowing it out. "Yeah, it is."
Jordan, splayed out on her bed at the other end of the room, still had the stream up on her phone. About thirty seconds after Lexi had her big, squirming orgasm in real life, Jordan watched it happen again on the stream.
With a little 'plink', a popup appeared in the corner: "New recruit! Reward: 1 credit." And then a second: "Current balance: 36 credits."
"Hey, we got another one!" Jordan said, waving her phone. "Who wants to go cash them in for more packs?"
"I got it!" Zoey growled, already halfway to the door, tugging on her midriff-baring leather jacket. The alley door slammed behind her as she left for the nearest corner store.
Hazel rolled her eyes as she lit up a new cigarette. "Zoey's such a slut for that cashier guy."
"Don't you suck him off?" Evie asked.
"Yeah, cause that's faster," Hazel said. "Anyway. Lexi, you're gonna tell the girls at your sorority that we're cool and have fun parties, right?"
The gazelle rocked her hips against her hand while she smoked, as if she didn't even realize she was doing it. "Totally, I'll tell them all to come. Only thing this place needs is a stripper pole," she said, and then, through her teeth, "I just need to fucking grind on something."
Hazel leaned over the back of the couch with a big smile. "Hear that, Jordan? We're gonna be rolling in credits!"